


Haunted

by Hollyhobby



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Canon Continuation, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Love Triangles, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Romance, Romantic Tension, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, creepyship, explicit - Freeform, mature - Freeform, petsan, sansa x petyr - Freeform, season 8 continue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-04-24 11:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyhobby/pseuds/Hollyhobby
Summary: Continuation of S8. Sansa is Queen of the North and when a ghost from her past returns, she has to make a choice to forgive or to forget.





	1. Ghost In The Midst

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Game of Thrones.

 

* * *

 Chapter One – Ghost In The Mist

* * *

Looking out over the side of the balcony, the fire haired queen watched her city, her people. They walked among one another. Their daily lives were entwined with one another. Their daily lives no longer under some the thumb of a ruthless leader that had absolutely no idea that their people needed, what was good for them or even simply what their people wanted for themselves and for each other. There was some sort of balance that surrounded the north since she took her rightful place as Queen.

Watching out over her people as the thaw was beginning, Sansa turned her head to look out over the top of the city's rooftops. Winterfell had been built up so much in the last five years. The city's limits expanded. Their army grew. Their people thrived. Their lives grew far more enriched than it had with any other sovereign present. She had made such an impact that they built statues up, celebrated her reign, even her name day had become a day that her people celebrated her. Queen Sansa Stark had been the right Queen for her people and never had she ever felt more pride than she did in the last couple of years.

Still, Sansa often thought about her family. Jon at the wall, Arya traveling to the west, Bran ruling over the other kingdoms. Her life, as fulfilling as it had become had also grown far more lonesome than she expected as a Queen. There had been many marriage offers. Many that pressured the young Queen to marry and produce children for her legacy. Sansa was reluctant to settle into that sort of role for herself. She had nearly just obtained this role as Queen of Winterfell. She wanted to enjoy this. She wanted to make it worth something so that when she finally took a king and birthed children of her own, they could be proud of the mother and wife that she was, not just as queen.

“Your grace.” A voice softly said from behind her.

Sansa turned her head to look back at the man standing at the top of the staircase. The man stood merely inches shorter than her, ravened black hair that was brushed back and tucked behind his head where it had been wrapped in a piece of twine and neatly lay against the length of his back where it stopped just above the middle of his spine.

“Yes, Tirius?” Sansa responded with a question whilst looking upon the man.

“Your audience had been requested in the great hall. We've captured another Lannister sympathizer.” Tirius informed his queen.

Sansa's form straightened a little more than it already had. She nodded her head and turned to follow him without another word to share between the two of them. The pair were quick to move throw the castle of Winterfell. Dubbed Castle Stark, it had been added onto, becoming far more like a fortress than it had been previously. Most had already been built up but some parts of the fortress were still under construction and would be finished by the coming spring.

Reaching the great hall, Sansa's men were already positioned inside of the hall, awaiting the arrival of their beloved monarch. The men were circled around a hidden man that she could tell was positioned on his knees in the middle of them.

Taking her place at the head of the room, not bothering to sit, Sansa looked upon the men and her eyes fell on the beaten and bloodied man who knelt on the floor. “Rayner, what is the meaning of this man's injuries?” Sansa demanded to her head guard who stood in front of the men he lead.

“Your grace,” The blonde man bowed his head to his queen before continuing. “We caught this man sneaking around the palace walls. When we caught him he put up quite the fight. He began shouting extremities about Queen Cersei Lannister and cursing your good name, my queen.”

Rayner stepped to the side and gestured to the man that held his hands on the intruder's shoulders to keep him sitting in place on his knees in front of him, “Brutus was able to subdue him with force. We did what was necessary, my queen.”

Sansa let out a soft sigh and motioned for them to bring the man closer with her fingers. Rayner nodded to Brutus who grabbed the stranger's arms and yanked him to his feet before forcing him to come closer to his queen on his feet.

“State your name.” Sansa demanded as she leveled her eyesight to the man's, her regal form showing the dominance she held over her kingdom.

“Jannis DuPont, your grace.” The man sputtered and coughed after he spoke.

“And what business do you have in Winterfell?” Sansa asked, demanding one again that the man answer her honestly.

“I have come with a message for Queen Stark.” He admitted and began to reach into his tattered cloak.

Brutus unsheathed his sword which caused the man to halt in fear and Sansa sighed. She put her hand up to signal to Brutus that he were to halt his actions and not scare the man.

“Go ahead.” Sansa urged the chestnut color haired man to continue further. She noticed that the material of the man's clothing beneath his cloak looked messy and torn however she could see the colors and the vibrancy still shown even through the dirt and dust that tried to dull it's brilliance. He was a man, or used to be a man of wealth from what it looked like. She also caught a glimmer of something from beneath the black cloak but she couldn't make out what twinkled before it was quickly covered again by the cloak.

“This is for you, my queen.” Jannis held out a small satchel, made of find dark brown leather.

Looking at the satchel for a moment, Sansa hesitated before reaching out with her fingers to take the satchel in her grasp. She sat it down softly against the table between she and her men and pulled the string to open the top. When she peered inside, there were a mass of small rolled up scrolls.

Knitting her brows together in confusion, Sansa looked up into the man's eyes, “What are these?” She questioned him.

“Lord Baelish.” Jannis answered.

A breath caught in her throat. Heart skipping a beat. Eyes growing slightly wider than she intended to allow. That name hadn't been spoken to her in almost six years and just the mentioning of his name made a lump form in her throat.

“He is dead.” Sansa's words slipped out and dripped with disdain.

A soft chuckle caught the group off guard when Jannis let a chuckle slip out of his throat. “Those scrolls will explain everything, my queen. I have been sworn to keep my secrecy for I am just a messenger. I am the hawk sent to deliver my lord's message.”

Before anyone could comprehend his words, the man pulled something from his pocket and brought it to his lips.

“Poison! Stop him!” Sansa was the first to notice that whatever it was, he was swallowing it. He was going to kill himself.

Brutus lurched at the man quickly to grab what he had in his hand and destroy it however, the man was far too fast for Brutus and he had actually swallowed the liquid inside. Within seconds the man was coughing and sputtering before slipping out of Brutus's grasp and fell from his feet and onto the ground where he convulsed and blood sputtered from between his lips and onto his face while blood dripped out from his nose.

“I'm sorry, your grace. I didn't see that coming.” Brutus apologized while standing over the man's quickly dead body.

“That will be alright, Brutus. Whoever this man was, he was sent by someone to deliver these scrolls to me.” Sansa's eyes narrowed as she picked the satchel up into her hand once again. “And whatever is written on these scrolls I am guessing has to do with Petyr Baelish.” The queen took a deep breath and tucked the satchel under her arm.

“What shall we do with him, your grace?” Rayner asked from behind Brutus and stepped forward to face his queen.

“Burn his body. Let know one else know of this man's visit. I have the slightest thought that he may not have wanted us to know who he is.” Sansa informed her royal guard.

Brutus motioned to one of the other men to help him take a hold of the now dead man.

“Wait.” Sansa said suddenly, causing the two men to halt their movements.

Sansa walked around the table from where she had stood. She joined the men on the other side of the table and looked down at the man's lifeless form. Kneeling beside the body, she reached out with her slender fingers and moved the black cloak to the side. She wanted to see what it was that twinkled in her eye when he moved his cloak to the side while grabbing the satchel.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips. The familiar pin on his tunic was something the queen had not laid her eyes on in many years. Her fingers reached out further. Sansa took the familiar mockingbird pin in her hand and held it up to see it better in the light. Quickly, she took the pin and placed it in the cloak pocket under her arm and stood on her feet once again.

“As I said, no one will know of this. Do I make myself clear?” Sansa ordered to her men, looking into each of their eyes separately and ensuring that her look resembled that of a fierce warning to them all.

“Yes, your grace.” The words were said in unison between Rayner's men.

Turning her head to look over at Tirius, “Tirius, I am going to retire to my solar for the afternoon. See to it that I am not disturbed. I will take my meal there but I will join the council for supper later this evening. Understood?”

Tirius bowed his head in response, “Yes, my queen.”

With that, their queen strode past the burly men and through the entryway to the hall. Once she was completely gone, Rayner motioned for his man to continue with the dead intruder's body and Tirius watched his queen disappear down the hall before he turned in the opposite direction and disappeared behind a doorway to leave the men in private.

* * *

A fire roared in the fireplace that Sansa paced in front of. It cast shadows on the walls that seemed to dance even more with her pacing. The light bounced off of the walls and reflected on her body. Her eyes darted around the room as she paced impatiently. She was trying to ready herself for what might be written across the scrolls that had been given to her. She would never show this nervous behavior in front of her people and chose to only allow such behavior in private.

Finally, she walked over to the desk in her solar and grabbed the wine that had been placed there to quench her parched lips. Sansa lifted the chalice to her lips and took a gulp of the deep burgundy liquid that threatened to stain her lips. Sitting it down, she licked the remaining drops from her mouth just as she finally placed herself in her seat.

Trembling hands found the satchel's string and hesitantly she pulled the drawstring and the opened gaped from the sudden slacking of the rope. She pushed both hands now into the sack and flipped it around, dumping the scrolls over the table top of her desk. Her eyes widened. There must have been dozens of scrolls. She wondered why the person who had sent them to her had sent a messenger and not a raven to deliver these. Of course the long winter made it harder for the ravens to deliver their scrolls in a timely matter but it wasn't impossible.

Another deep sigh escaped her lips as she anxiously grabbed a random scroll from the pile and pulled it open quickly with her fingers, unable to hold back the urge to rip through them all and engorge herself in whatever was written across the parchment.

“ _It has been one year since I watched the mirrored image bleed with red. His disguise was an idea I was given to by a dear confidant. I wanted to speak the truth to you, darling Sansa.”_ Sansa read over the words on the first scroll. Brows knitted together with confusion.

Sansa laid it down and grabbed another scroll that read; _“If the rumors are true, I am swelling with joy at your triumph. I always knew a crown was most befitting for your beautiful skull, my dearest.”_ Again the words confused her still.

Grabbing other scrolls, Sansa began reading through. No name appeared. No lead to point to whom it may have been that had enscribed all of these words on the scrolls in front of her. One after another spoke of things she didn't know about. It wasn't until her eye caught sight of a thick scroll, bigger than the others.

Darting her hand out and taking the scroll in her grasp, she pulled it open with her fingers. There was far more written across the parchment than the rest of the scrolls. Eyes moving to find the beginning of the information written, she found the words. _“I had help. I must admit it was Arya's idea. I will reveal all in due time, sweetling.”_ Her mouth let out a gasp.

'Sweetling”. That name was her final giveaway to the only man who had ever given her such a nickname.

“ _There are truths far beyond what you have been told. I never wanted to lie to you. If you are reading this than Arya has kept my secret too. Do not fret, I will find you when the time is right. I will explain myself and my actions properly, my girl. If you are reading this, then that time is not as far off as you may think.”_ The words jumped out at her.

Petyr Baelish was alive. Arya knew. Ayra had a hand in setting this up?

 


	2. Intoxicated

 

 Chapter Two – Intoxicated

* * *

For weeks the queen has read the scrolls over and over when in the confinement of her solar. Endless hours were wasted pacing, reading, wondering. Sansa couldn't rest. Every raven she received, every visitor, every newcomer was expected to be Petyr Baelish in her mind. Around every corner she anticipated that she would collide with such ghosts. Her dreams were plagued his misty green eyes. Every time mint struck her senses, her nostrils flared and her senses ran rampant among her body.

Still, as the weeks passed, she had sent a small fleet of men west in bounty for her sister. She needed to speak with Arya. If she could get to Arya first, perhaps she could learn what exactly had transpired between she and Petyr. Sansa hated waiting, hated to be in the dark. She had spent her entire life being left to her own devices and in that state she was kept in the dark about everything. She had to find the truth on her path to Queen on her own and generally meant she had to learn those truths the hard way.

It wasn't until one rainy day just before the end of the thawing of spring that there was an update on the matter.

Sitting in her solar, a soft knock at her door. Sansa glanced over at the wooden door, brow raised in confusion. She hadn't expected company. It wasn't often that she allowed others to disturb her in her solar. It was a safe space that only she inhabited usually.

“Come in.” The queen's voice was soft as the words rolled from her tongue.

The door opened slowly and stepped through the threshold was that of Tyrion Lannister. She was even more surprised than she had originally guessed. At first she had guessed it would be someone like Tirius or maybe even Rayner. But Tyrion Lannister in Stark Castle? In _Winterfell_? It wasn't something she had been able to fathom since becoming Queen of the North.

“Tyrion Lannister.” Sansa's words gave her shock away just before she stood.

“Sansa Stark.” Tyrion said once he had closed the door shut behind him. His little legs brought him closer before stopping abruptly. “Forgive me.” He put his arm across his body and bowed his head forward. “Queen Sansa Stark.”

Sansa couldn't help but smile at her old friend, “No need for that.” She walked forward until they were within a distance that Tyrion could take her hand. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed the soft flesh on the back of her hand.

“You are even more beautiful as a queen. I'm not sure if it's simply the addition of the crown or just your beauty as you've aged. Which is hardly an issue.” Tyrion's smile was warm and welcoming.

“What brings you to, Winterfell, Lord Tyrion?” Sansa asked, ignoring the clear boldness of the imp. She pulled her hand back slowly and returned it to her waist where she clasped her hands together. “It is been many years since I have been graced by your presence.” Sansa remarked as she turned around to walk back to her desk and take a seat at the head of it.

The bottom of Tyrion's boots clapped against the floor as he followed her direction before he too took a seat at the other side of the desk, joining the Queen in her place.

“I have been sent to ask for your help. It seems your brother has received some disturbing news regarding Arya.” Tyrion admitted.

' _Oh no,_ ' Sansa thought to herself as worry was quickly building at the base of her spine before spreading up and around her only to engulf the woman completely. It made her heart quicken.

“Arya? Is she well?” Sansa quickly questioned Tyrion.

“She is well. But we received news that your sister has stumbled on new land. Word is that the world she has stumbled upon is a dangerous one. Advanced in a way as well.” Tyrion informed the Queen as his face turned, showing more concern for what he was explaining.

Sansa's face changed, confusion striking her complexion, “I'm not sure I understand.”

“We believe Arya may be leading these people to Westeros.” Tyrion admitted.

“What does that have to do with the North?” Sansa's voice was showing more annoyance.

“Will you not fight alongside your brother if you must?” Tyrion raised a brow at his question, confused at Sansa's irritation.

“The North is independent from the other kingdoms. King Bran is my brother and of course I would help when I can but Arya wouldn't lead a group of men with ill intentions to Westeros. I know my sister and that is not something she would do.” Sansa explained herself to Tyrion. She never would believe that Arya would do anything like that to she or Bran.

“You do know that if a war were to befall Westeros, it may well affect Winterfell and the rest of the North as well, don't you?” Tyrion looked at the young Queen. She truly had much to learn about being a monarch but he was sure she would learn fairly quickly.

“Of course I do, Lord Tyrion but that doesn't mean that the men Arya is bringing to Westeros have some sort of ill intent. I think my little brother may be overreacting.” As Sansa spoke her words, she stood and walked over to a table in the corner of the room, sitting between two long windows. Even as the rain fell, the sounds filled the room along with the crackling of the fireplace.

Tyrion watched the woman take the decanter in her grasp and pour the red liquid into two chalices before gently sitting it down on the surface of the little table and picking up the cups into her hands.

“Wine? Before evening? Your grace, this is different.” Tyrion said with a smile.

“More than just landscape has changed in Winterfell, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa remarked when she approached him and handed him the glass.

“I can see that, my Queen.” Tyrion brought the chalice to his lips and took a deep drink of the cool maroon drink. “But back to the matters at hand, I must express my feeling, your grace. I am not asking to aid the king into a great battle. I simply ask that perhaps you may join me in Kings Landing to greet Arya upon arrival. You are the dearest to her heart. Surly she would never bring harm to you.”

“So you wish for me to be a shield.” Sansa couldn't help the chuckle that left her lips after drinking down some of her wine. “Do you peg me a fool?” Sansa sat the cup down on the desk and her eyes glanced at the pile of scrolls that sat in the basket behind her desk and beside her seat. She took a deep breath and looked over at him.

Tyrion could see that Sansa was right in that moment. Perhaps more had change than just the landscape. Sansa had grown. She could see through him.

“I'll go.” Sansa said abruptly.

Eyes widened in Tyrion's head at her sudden change of heart. “You will?” He asked, almost in disbelief.

“Yes. The North thrives. My people are safe. I have no serious matters to attend to at the moment.” Sansa's eyes fell over the scrolls again. Was she just going to sit around here waiting for something to happen?

“You surprise me, Sansa.” Tyrion said, using her name as opposed to title. Not many would dare.

“Why is this, Tyrion?” Sansa asked the imp.

“You leave me wondering if this would have been the wife I had spent my life with or if you had remained so demure.” Tyrion couldn't help but smile at the thought of Sansa in his bed just as she was, or even as a modest young girl that she once was.

Sansa raised a brow and lifted her chalice, as if to toast, “Then let us drink to the Queen I have become. For the demure and timid Stark girl lives no more.” Tyrion lifted the metal cup in response. “And if you'd really like to know, I'd like to think this is the woman I was always meant to be.” Sansa added after taking a drink of her wine.

“I quite like this woman, actually. The confidence is radiating and you are far more fitting for the crown than anyone believed a Stark would be.” Tyrion smiled genuinely.

As surprised as Sansa had been at first to see Tyrion Lannister stepping into her solar, she was quite happy to have had the chance to see her old friend. Visitors were far and few between, especially those of the old days. It grew lonely at times with no family but often Tirius kept the young Queen company and sometimes preferred the company of her handmaid who was a sweet young girl that reminded her a little of Shae.

* * *

Laughter filled the room as they downed more wine. More wine and more food filled their bellies as they laughed and danced.

“Oh I was never a dancer. A seamstress but never a dancer.” Sansa laughed as she held Tyrion's hands out and spun him which caused the two to both crack into fits of laughter.

“Oh but that would have changed if your betrothal to Joffrey would have been sought forward.” Tyrion collapsed onto the seat beside him and Sansa simply took a seat on the fur rug they had danced upon in front of him.

“Joffrey. I haven't thought of him in years.” Sansa admitted while lifting the chalice of wine to her lips, already staining her once pink lips and turning them into a darker various shade of red.

“We finally have rebuilt the Red Keep. Destroyed what was left of my family.” The look on Tyrion's face left a shiver through Sansa's body. A glimmer of sadness had crossed his face.

“As much as I wanted to hate you because of what the Lannisters did to my family, you were always so unlike them.” Sansa moved herself forward and rested her hand on his.

Tyrion's eyes darted down and into those insatiably blue eyes of hers.

“I remember the feeling of being in Kings Landing surrounded by nothing that was my own. I believed I was the last of my family and it struck fear and sadness in my heart. I am sorry that I misjudged you so harshly.” Sansa admitted, her thumb stroking the fleshy veins on the back of his hand.

A small apologetic smile mimicked their faces as they both looked at one another. Tyrion's head began to swarm with the ideas of leaning into the queen and kissing her feverishly. He shook his head and pulled his hand free gently to ease some of the sudden tension.

“I fear I have had too much wine, my Queen.” Tyrion solemnly admitted.

A frown crossed over Sansa's face as she looked at him twist into an uncomfortable tension. “Have I said something wrong?” Sansa asked soberly. Her worry began to fill her.

Tyrion reached forward and placed his hand gently on Sansa's cheek, “A Queen never says something wrong, your grace. Remember that.” He informed the red haired queen.

“I am not Cersei Lannister, Tyrion.” Sansa pulled away from his hand as if he had struck her.

“My apologies, your grace. That is not what I was implying.” Tyrion quickly apologized.

“Then you mustn't assume that I possess such mindsets.” Sansa placed her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “I pride myself on being a far less cruel Queen.”

“And that you most certainly have achieved, my Queen.” Tyrion added before she could say another word. “I only meant...” Tyrion paused to ensure his next few choice of words were the correct ones.

However, before Tyrion could finish his sentence, Sansa leaned forward and place her lips on Tyrion's.

Caught off guard, his eyes stayed open, looking at her face as if to be sure that it wasn't the wine and that he wasn't daydreaming. Her hands on either side of his head only confirmed that Queen Sansa Stark was actually kissing him. Giving in, the imp closed his eyes and brought his hand up to caress her jawline with his fingers.

Slowly the two pulled back from one another, looking between eyes and lips, the heat of their breaths still hot on one another.

“You shouldn't do that, Sansa.” Tyrion whispered inches from her face.

“Why shouldn't I? We were married once, were we not?” Sansa asked, searching his face for something familiar. It seemed he too had changed.

“Indeed.” Tyrion let a sigh escape his lips and pulled back. “You are drunk with wine. Allow me to call your handmaid to put you to bed.” Tyrion offered, moving his hands to rest on her shoulders.

“You are avoiding me.” Sansa said aloud, looking up into his cloudy green eyes.

“You are a Queen and I am merely the hand of the king.” Tyrion said. He hoped it would be enough to halt her advances. She had grown brave.

“And you were once a whore.” Sansa said with a laugh. “I refuse to believe that you are some obedient tart now.” Sansa's words slurred, only confirming that the Queen was far more drunk than he. Her words stung him slightly but he would quickly forgive the beautiful Queen.

Tyrion pushed her shoulders back gently so that he could stand on his two feet. Taking her hand in his, he faced her. “Please, your grace. Let me call for your handmaid.”

Sansa pulled her hand back from his grasp and grumbled something under her breath that he couldn't clearly make out but was sure some sort of obscenities she had learned from her royal guard if not from her travels leading up to her reign. Clumsily, the intoxicated Queen got to her feet. Tyrion stood behind her, his arms out to either side as if he would, as if he _could_ catch her if she fell. The best he could allow was allow her to lean against him drunkenly with his head pressed against her waist where her corset held tight around her frame.

Stumbling through another door, Tyrion found her bed was not far off. Thankfully her handmaid had already lit a fire in her mantel which gave the two the advantage of light. Tyrion helped Sansa over to the bed where she collapsed onto the side of it, her body laying back in the middle of her duvet.

Tyrion leaned down and took Sansa's legs in his hands and lifted them up onto the bed so he could help her to lay flat and more comfortably. He moved to the end of her bed and removed her boots from her feet. He wouldn't remove her clothing but he would help her to at least get comfortable enough that she could sleep off the wine that coursed through her system. A sure headache she would be sporting in the morning.

Finding his way around the bed, he climbed onto the bed and began to unlace her corset. She would surely slumber better without the tight bindings restricting her airflow. It was the least he could do. Then, hopefully tomorrow she would be well enough to begin her decent back to Kings Landing.

“What are you doing?” Sansa murmured against her pillows.

“Not to worry. I'm loosening your corset so you may rest.” Tyrion's voice was soft and quiet, not wanting to keep her from a good slumber.

Once the corset was loose and no longer dug uncomfortably in the Queen's sides, he turned to get off of the bed when a soft hand on his arm stopped her.

“Stay with me.” Sansa's voice was oddly sober and tiny.

Tyrion turned his head to look down at her, looking at him, her eyes telling him that this wasn't the wine talking. Still, he couldn't help but feel that it would be wrong of him.

“Please.” Sansa urged.

A battle brewed within him. He wanted to tell her no. He wanted to tell her yes. Sansa Stark was once his wife but never did he consummate their marriage. He could never take the young innocent child's virginity. He refused to be such a monster. Tyrion did find her to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever looked upon. Not to mention kind and sweet. Now here she lay in a drunken stupor on her bed.

“I shouldn't.” Tyrion sighed.

Sansa turned her body to face him and adjusted her pillow under her cheek. Tyrion noticed the small tear that had escaped the corner of her eye and it sent a pang in his chest. Without a word he moved so that he lounged against the pillows. Sansa instantly moved so that her head was in his lap, no longer seeking the comfort of her pillows.

“It's very lonely here.” Sansa admitted quietly, holding back the emotion that the wine was surfacing.

“I can imagine, Sansa.” Tyrion muttered quietly.

Brushing back her hair softly in his hands, Tyrion looked down at the Queen who sniffled. He could feel that pain. He too was lonely in Kings Landing. No Jamie. Not even Cersei to annoy him. He could only imagine that she too felt some sort of loneliness. Bran in Kings Landing, Arya off exploring and Jon sentenced to the wall. It seemed the two shared the same fate.

The Queen suddenly lifted her head and brought her face close to his, moving so that she lay over him, her hands on either side of his body and resting on the pillow under his lower back. “If I asked you to entertain me, Tyrion....” Sansa's eyes were suddenly very sober and her words coming out a little more clearly. “Would you?” Sansa asked.

Tyrion shook his head no slowly. “The moral of my being wouldn't allow me to, your grace.” Tyrion said as he gulped.

“Not even as your wife?” Sansa asked, her words wavering slightly.

A deep breath left his chest, “It is wrong.”

“You said you wouldn't share my bed until I wanted you to.” Sansa looked him right into his eyes.

“We are no longer married.” Tyrion reasoned with her, “You were an innocent young girl back then.”

“I am a Queen now. Let me make those decisions for myself.”

With that, Sansa pushed forward, kissing him softly but passionately once again. This time, Tyrion didn't stop her. He didn't push her away or try to deter her from kissing him. A sudden surge of his own boiling blood made him more eager as the stirring in his trousers because very evident to him.

Pushing himself from where he sat, he encouraged Sansa back and she followed his lead. Sansa sat up and allowed for Tyrion to pull her corset up over her body and over her head before tossing it off to the side. Her dress seemed to fall open slightly without the harsh bindings of the corset to keep it wrapped around her tight.

At the same time, Sansa's fingers fumbled with the buttons on his top, clumsily trying to unbutton each one individually. However, the feeling of his fingers pushing her dress down her shoulder halted her ministrations and she moved slightly to allow the sleeves of her dress to be pushed down her arms before she shook her body and shifted until she was left in the off-white shift that barely covered the young queens skin.

In that moment, Tyrion looked over her beautiful body. Barely covered. Still so young. However, there were pieces of her skin that were laden with scars. Evidence of a cruel hand that had been dealt to Sansa. Her second husband had not been so kind to her.

Reaching out, Tyrion stroked the scar just between her breasts. Sansa tensed and shut her eyes. Flashes came to her. That night had been one of the worst. Tied her hands above her head. Forced her knees out to either side of her. Penetrated her roughly without so much as a warning. He had leaned forward and took one of the deepest, hardest bite he would take on the Stark girl. He didn't care that she screamed in agony. He had no regard for the pain he inflicted on her.

Fingers grasped his wrist and Sansa opened her eyes. “Stop.” Her voice shuddered quietly. Tyrion's green hues found her blue eyes and she could see the torment that she was still laden with. “Maybe you're right.” Sansa whispered.

 _'She isn't ready,'_ Tyrion thought to himself. Even though it had been quite a few years since Ramsay Bolton's death, Sansa was still struggling with the idea of bedding a man.

“But -” Sansa paused and laid her head back down on her pillow and looked up at the imp in her bed. “Will you still stay? Stroke my hair until I sleep?” Sansa asked quietly.

There was the young innocent girl he remembered. Still inside of her. Barely there but still present.

“Of course, my Queen.” Tyrion said with a gentle smile.

“Sansa. Please. No titles between us, Tyrion.” Sansa offered to him.

“Yes, Sansa.”


	3. Nothing Stands In Our Way

 

 Chapter Three – Nothing Stands In Our Way

* * *

The journey to Kings Landing had proven to be a long and treacherous journey that Sansa had quickly grown tired of. It was a journey the young Queen had made four times in her life. A part of her never believed she would be making it a fifth time but she had been proved wrong by the moving carriage she was tucked away in.

Tyrion offered to share his much larger, much more luxurious carriage with her but she declined the offer. Sansa was taking the time to King's Landing to sit and ponder much that had transpired over the last few weeks. First; she finds that Petyr Baelish is alive and that Arya had something to do with it. Then she gets a visit from Tyrion Lannister who tells her that Arya is heading toward Kings Landing with a group of troublesome men they believed would put Kings Landing and Westeros in danger.

Sansa's eyes shifted as she looked out of the window of her carriage as the landscapes changed many times during their journey. Here she was, going to try and play big sister to her two youngest siblings. It was almost like when they were children and she was often having to break the two apart. Somehow though, Sansa didn't think Arya's intention was a negative one. She truly believed that Tyrion and Bran would possibly be overreacting. However, with Bran's sight, she wondered how much he already knew that she wasn't telling anyone. A sneaky king she wondered if he had become.

Not to mention, things between Sansa were a little awkward. She almost bed the imp. In a drunken stupor, she was very close to bedding her ex-husband and it had made her uncomfortable since. She knew it was most likely the fact that seeing him, someone from her past, someone who knew her so well, just surfaced emotions she hadn't felt in years. Also, her loneliness was beginning to bother her, like an itch she just couldn't scratch no matter how hard she tried.

Besides all of that, Petyr Baelish had taken up most of the space in Sansa's mind. Every corner they turned, every new terrain they traveled through, Sansa wondered if suddenly he were going to pop up out of nowhere and it left the Queen on edge. But with Rayner and some of his men following with them, she did feel a little more comfortable. At least enough to relax even just a little.

Night was the hardest. She closed her eyes and her mind was clouded by both he and Tyrion. It was becoming a confusing battle that during the day, Sansa did her best to ignore. It was quite difficult however. One man who she believed all of this time had been a traitor to her and her family and the other who had chosen to return to Kings Landing to aid Bran with his sovereignty. Still, she couldn't deny the stone cold fact that she was conflicted by what she felt for the two of them and the idea of having to one day possibly choose between them. Somehow it just seemed easier to deny them both the same.

* * *

The brother and sister begun to walk in the direction of the newly decorated royal gardens. It was far more lavish and green than Sansa had remembered.

“I just don't feel that Arya's intentions is of ill will, Bran.” Sansa sighed as she walked beside her brother who was being pushed by one of his royal guards. “It just doesn't make any sense to me. Why would _our_ sister come to Kings Landing to harm you?” Sansa asked when they came to a stop at the end of their walkway where a stone wall kept them from going further. Sansa looked out over the familiar sight of the sea just to the side of the beautiful fortress.

“But I have seen it, Sansa.” Bran rested his hand on his chin as he too looked out at the water only momentarily before returning his attention to his eldest sister. “You have to understand, this journey that our sister has been on must have changed her, altered her in some way.” Bran suggested.

Sansa turned her eyesight to her little brother and shook her head. “No matter what Arya has done, she would never bring harm to our family. Especially you. I just can't believe that she would do something so vile.” Sansa rested her hands at her waist where she kept her fingers laces together in front of her.

“Perhaps a spell? We know of magic. We have seen what it can do with our own eyes. These hoard of men she has come across could have also manipulated Arya.” Bran suggested. “My sight gives me some power but not all.”

Nodding her head, Sansa shrugged her shoulders a little. “Well whatever it may be, I will be here. Arya needs us.” Sansa sighed quietly. “The North will fair without their Queen for a little while.” She smirked.

“I hear Winterfell is doing beautifully, darling sister.” Bran grinned, changing the subject to something far more light than the subject of Arya.

A smile immediately formed on Sansa's lips, “It is, your grace.” Sansa said happily. “You couldn't imagine. We have grown in size and in number. It is even more beautiful than you could imagine. Our parents would be very proud.” She admitted happily.

“I am sure they are. I must come to visit some time. The North is independent but it will always be the home of the Stark family.” Bran grinned.

Sansa's smile widened slightly and she nodded her head. “What would the North be without a Stark?” Sansa mused curiously.

“A land of wildlings, I presume.” Bran joked which elicited a chuckle from his sister.

“Then I guess it is only right that a Stark control it's vastness.” Sansa smiled happily at the reminder that not only one, but two Starks held crowns as they were always meant to. A thought surfaced to Sansa's mind as they stayed there, at the end of the pathway. “Have you thought about what you are going to do when Arya arrives?”

Bran shifted in his seat on the wheelchair and stroked the growing facial hair that laid against his jawline. “Honestly? I haven't the slightest.” Bran said honestly.

“Well I think it would be best to allow her the element of surprise, even if she does suspect that you know she is coming.” Sansa suggested before leaning her hip back against the stone wall that kept her from falling over the side of the cliff.

“I did have a thought,” Bran began and looked up at his red haired sister. “What if we hid men..” Bran turned his head and pointed out to the sea. “There...” He shifted his hand to the other side, “...And there.” Bran lowered his hand back to his lap. “I did not see but one ship in my vision. Just in case they begin causing trouble upon arrival. Then, if she is reasonable, we listen to what she has to say and decide from there.”

“I just...” Sansa bit her lip. “It just doesn't sound like Arya. I don't know if I can believe that our own sister would do such a thing.” Sansa sighed anxiously.

“I know, Sansa.” Bran said as he reached out to place his hand against Sansa's wrist. “But we have to come to terms with the idea that the Arya we knew may not be the Arya who is returning to Westeros.”

Sansa looked down at Bran as a gust of cool air picked up, brushing Sansa's hair across her face. She lifted her hand to push her hair from her face before she turned her head to look out over the sea again. As much as she didn't want to believe Bran, he was right. Of course the idea that maybe she really didn't know her sister crossed her mind when she thought about the scrolls that informed her of Arya's secret of helping Petyr. Maybe she actually didn't know who Arya really was.

* * *

Dunking her head under the water, Sansa gasped when she finally surfaced again. The water surrounded her as she looked around, watching the women move about the dimly lit room, ensuring the fire heating the bathing pool had warmed the water enough for the Queen, adding oils and herbs and flower petals to the water. She silently made a mental note to have one of these nifty bathhouses built in Winterfell in Stark Castle. It allowed her to swim around and submerge her whole body comfortably rather than be cooped up in a tiny tub where more times than not the water grew cold fairly quickly. Sometimes she just wanted to lay back and soak in the warmth. It wasn't possible with an average basin.

Once the room was completely free from another person, Sansa took a deep breath and allowed herself to sit back against a corner of the pool. The steam drifted across the top layer of space just above the water. Sansa inhaled deeply and allowed for the scents and smells to fill her, seemingly all working together to relax her muscles and rid her of any aches and pains.

Humming filled the space of the room while Sansa slowly kicked her legs out beneath the water, allowing them to move around to help push around the water, mixing the water around a little. Her mind for once since arriving in Kings Landing wasn't racing. Sansa felt some sort of ease for the first time in weeks. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to just sit and breathe calmly and relax her body completely.

Unsure of how long she had been in the pool, Sansa lifted her head and moved around some more. Even pushing her head below the surface of the water as she allowed her whole body to become submerged in the warm and inviting water. When she came back up, she pushed her fingers against her eyes and pushed her hair back behind her head completely. Wiping excess water from her face.

A sound could be heard in the distance that caught the Queen's attention. Sansa looked around, brows knitted together as curiosity quickly set in. “Hello?” Sansa called out. She waited a moment to see if someone answered or appeared, moving about within the pool, turning her head a few times to look around the whole room. No one appeared or spoke out against her.

Another sound, this time closer and behind her caused Sansa to jump, a tiny gasp of breath coming from her body at the same time that she turned to the direction that it had come in. “I demand you show yourself!” Sansa shouted in the direction of the sound. Still, no other sound or movement had come from that direction.

Swimming over to the side of the pool where she had entered originally, Sansa leaned over the side of the pool and grabbed the small pointy dagger that Arya had given her at the Battle of Winterfell. She had kept it and practiced with Rayner quite frequently. Once becoming Queen of the North, Sansa wanted to be able to defend herself. She had gotten quite good with her small dagger but had not attempted a full length sword yet. At least she could feel a little safer with the dagger in her hand.

A crashing came from the adjoining room which causes Sansa to jump again and turn to look at the doorway that would lead her into the other room. Her eyes were fixated on the doorway. All she could see were the flickering light of torches that lined the entry wall and her eyes could barely make out a shadow.

Sansa went to stand but when the cool air suddenly attacked her body, she realized just how vulnerable she was. She looked down at the water and oils that coated her bare skin and sunk back down into the water, silently cursing herself for telling Rayner to go rest from their long journey instead of joining her in the room. She was certain if she was safe anywhere, in the castle at Kings Landing would surly be one of those places. Especially with her brother sitting on the throne. He'd never let harm come to Sansa. She was sure of it.

Slowly swimming to the side of the pool, Sansa was as quiet as she could be but her eyes never left the doorway. When she got to the edge of the pool where her robe lay against the side of the steps, Sansa reached around to grab the robe blindly but when her hand merely hit the rocks that formed the step she gasped. It was gone.

“Looking for this?” A distinct voice came from behind her.

Turning quickly, Sansa gasped and looked up at the figure who stood just between where the shadows would engulf him and where the light would reveal him completely. She could just barely make out the shadows of his face and the sapphire blue robe he held in his hand. Her eyes narrowed when he lifted his face and her blue eyes were met with the cloudy green eyes that she had been waiting for.

“Baelish.” Sansa hissed quietly.

“My Queen.” Petyr's voice was soft as he stepped forward, allowing the torches of light to reflect off of him to reveal himself in all of his tall and slender glory. He wore but a green robe of his own, thin from the look of it.

“How did you get in here?” Sansa asked, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. She stayed locked in that spot, her knees pressed against the floor of the pool slightly painfully, her arm stretched around the side, dagger gripped in her hand.

“Have you forgotten my ability to find my own way?” Petyr asked the women in the water. He began to approach the pool and let Sansa's blue robe drop to the floor in a heap. Sansa's eyes watched it slip from his hand before returning her eyes to his face.

“You cannot be in here.” Sansa's voice took a tone that dripped with contempt. Still, he trudged forward toward the pool.

Petyr's hands gripped the knot that held the robe secure around his body and began to unravel it slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. It made Sansa shudder. Partly in fear, partly in anger. Another something began to happen inside of her belly where a faint flutter began. That flutter grew and spread like wildfire the moment he stepped over the threshold of the pool wall and sunk into the pool.

Something inside allowed Sansa to move finally and she drifted back. Her arm still over the side of the wall, but her body began to drift back to put distance between she and Petyr. Still, he continued to move forward, on the verge of launching himself at the Queen but keeping as much composure as he could possibly have.

“You seem afraid, your grace.” Petyr's words drew out of his throat, his eyes following Sansa's every movement.

“I fear nothing. I am angry.” Sansa admitted openly, her voice still menacing.

“Because I have betrayed you?” Petyr asked curiously. “Because your sister kept a secret with a man whom you believed betrayed your family?”

“Because I was not told the truth.” Sansa spat in his direction. “Because I feel as though I have put my trust in the wrong people.” Continuing to drift back against the water.

“It was for your protection, your grace. Arya thought it would be best to reveal everything to you when the time was right.” Petyr informed the secretly frightened woman. In that moment he stopped moving toward her and his movement ceased. In turn, so did Sansa's. “You must believe we had no ill intentions, Sweetling.”

“Don't call me that. You have no right.” Sansa growled. The grip on her dagger tightened. “Arya would never do anything to hurt me. You however, I'm not so sure.”

“Drop the weapon, Sansa.” Petyr's voice turned bitter. “I'm not here to fight you or to harm you. I told you that in due time I would reveal myself.” Petyr's eyes moved from her's as he glanced down at his own very nude body before looking back up into her eyes once again. “Perhaps I have revealed _too_ much.” Petyr wickedly chuckled.

Still, her grip on the dagger never faltered. She wouldn't trust him. Not when he was such a sly snake. Then, as Petyr began moving toward her, Sansa began moving backwards again. This time, he was closing in faster then before. Her heart pounded harder in her chest as he began to close the gap between them faster and more gingerly.

It was when Sansa felt the wall of the pool his her back that she gasped and suddenly he was right there, arms on either side of her body, trapping her in that space. Instinctively, Sansa brought the dagger up from the outside of the pool and pressed it into his neck. It only made him laugh aloud.

“Well isn't this quite fitting?” Petyr mentioned toward the dagger against his throat, recalling that was how Arya had killed his body double.

“Don't think I won't do it.” Sansa tempted, her words daring him to continue his actions.

“I know you will.” Petyr mused, “Perhaps I'd like you to.”

With that, Petyr brought one of his hands up to her hand wrapped around the dagger's handle. His warm bony fingers wrapped around her cold long slender fingers and his grip tightened around her own, bringing the dagger to physically press against the flesh of his neck, their eyes locked in a burning trance.

Sansa gasped when she felt his grip on her hand and the handle. She gripped the handle harder as if it would lessen the tightness of his grip on the handle but it only made him grip harder. She was stuck there, trapped between his body and the wall of the pool. She couldn't move. Her legs didn't seem to work in that moment.

Petyr leaned forward just in the same moment that Sansa did and suddenly their lips were pressed against one another. It was hard and eager at first. Immediately Petyr let go of the dagger and Sansa's hand discarded the dagger onto the ledge of the pool, letting it clank as she dropped it onto the surface.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Sansa pulled the man closer, her fingers gripped the soft flesh of his upper back, little half moons of her nail marks imprinting themselves across the skin. Petyr's arms wrapped around Sansa's waist, pulling her thin frame against his own, allowing her breasts to graze his own chest which stirred the roaring fire in his soul.

Their lips burned with lust. Parting his lips, his tongue flicked her top lip, begging for entry into the depths of her mouth. She didn't hesitate to part her lips in response, allowing for the older man to push the warm muscle between her lips and invade the inside of her cheeks. His tongue eagerly sought out her own, pressing and dancing along the length of it. Her tongue was quick to dance back until they played a game of cat and mouse with their feverish tongues.

Pulling back slowly, Sansa's eyes had closed and now begun to open them again just as Petyr's did. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Sansa whispered as her blue pools reflected the water they sat in.

“I know I do, my love.” Petyr's murky green eyes looked almost desperate in that moment. “I don't expect you to forgive me right away,” Petyr paused to lick his bottom lip. “But I am ready.”

“You tell me everything.” Sansa growled, “Truthfully. No more lies. No more games. None.”

“I promise.” Petyr whispered before leaning his head into hers once again and placing his lips against hers.

Something filled Sansa in that moment. Something in her soul suddenly rattled and that emptiness that she had been trying to fill for the last few years was suddenly lost to her as she returned the heated kiss. Emotions ran rampant between the two in such a simple act that caused their bodies to groan silently. Sansa felt her heart hammering against her pulse points through her body and held him closer, not wanting to let go of this man who had been long gone to her until now.


	4. Humane

 

 Chapter Four – Humane

* * *

The tiny man stood aside his king, reluctant to continue to listen to the words coming from the mouth of the ghost that stood in front of them. Especially seeing how the Queen seemed so eager to listen. She was perfectly poised as a Queen would be, however, her eyes had given her away. Even if she meant to hide her feelings within them, Tyrion could see through them. It angered him to the core that she would believe the words that spewed from Lord Baelish's mouth.

“I don't see how you could possibly convince Arya Stark of treason.” Tyrion uttered in disbelief before shifting to lean on the opposite leg.

Petyr's eyes found Tyrion's tiny body standing alongside where King Bran Stark sat in his wheelchair. He shot the imp a look, one of irritation and vexation. “I must admit, I didn't believe that Arya Stark would ever be someone who would help me. Especially under this guise I had been living under.” Petyr spoke after taking his eyes off of Tyrion and connecting them to Bran's.

“I must admit, Tyrion makes a valid point, Lord Baelish.” Bran sighed, scratching his brow as he spoke.

“What did you say to Arya?” Sansa asked, speaking up alongside her brother's seat.

Letting a sigh come from his lips, Petyr readied to speak. “I was speaking with one of the faceless men – the man that ultimately took my place the day that Arya would take my life.” Petyr began, his eyes switching from between Bran, Tyrion and Sansa's. “She overheard me and when I was done, the man had left and I turned to see her standing there. She was ready to slaughter me right then and there. I feared for my life and I explained diligently to her what exactly happened.”

“Which was what? That you are an honor of lies?” Tyrion smirked.

Bran placed a hand up to quiet Tyrion, “Please. We must give him the same respect that you would expect, Lord Tyrion.” Bran sighed. The clear distaste for Petyr was apparent on Tyrion's tongue.

“Thank you, your grace.” Petyr said with a bow of his head before continuing. “It was not I that had betrayed the Starks all along. Roose Bolton was the real person behind the slaughtering of the Stark family.” Petyr's eyes connected with Sansa's in that moment. “That is why I came to you the day after your arrival in Kings Landing to watch the games. I had meant to speak to your father to warn him of what Roose Bolton had planned but he wouldn't speak to me. So then I made it my duty to take you home to your mother. I tried to find a different way to get you back home to Winterfell before. With the Bolton's taking over your home I had no other choice.”

Sansa felt that twinkle of anger that started at her spine and connected to her chest, making it tight and harder to breathe. The memories of how horrible Ramsay Bolton had been to her, the raping and the beating. The horrors she had faced at the hands of the Bolton's brought Sansa pure hatred. However, the look of utter regret in Petyr's eyes kept her her anger level and still, she showed no emotion in that moment. She couldn't look at him for far too long, causing her to look down at her hands resting in her lap. Petyr in turn shifted his gaze back to Bran.

“Once the Bolton's were dead, you all just assumed it were I who betrayed the Starks. Ramsay however killed his father before I could bring him to a trial and everything began to unfold as it had. Ramsay had no idea of his father's treachery. Of course...” Petyr's eyes drifted back to Sansa who still hadn't looked up from her lap.

Finally at the silence, Sansa lifted her head. “It still doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't you just tell me of your plans? Why couldn't you tell me that it was Roose Bolton and not you?” Sansa's first twinge of emotion glimmered through as her tears brimmed her eyes.

“Because I needed to be sure they would never suspect Sansa Stark of knowing who really betrayed her family. I needed your thoughts, your feelings, everything had to be genuine. If you didn't suspect them, you couldn't slip or make any mistakes that would lead them to believe that you'd have anything to do in their deaths.” Petyr admitted, his eyes as genuine as the precious stones that covered his fingers.

“But the horrible things Ramsay did to the Queen... Arya would still put blame to you.” Tyrion insisted.

Petyr turned his sights on Tyrion. “Of course. She did. She was still angry at me for not doing something to stop that. But I had no idea of Ramsay's ill intentions.” Petyr looked back at Sansa, his eyes showing more guilt as he watched her lose a tear that she couldn't hold. “I honestly didn't know. I would have never put you in that sort of situation if I had known otherwise.”

“This is just madness. I just can not believe this completely.” Tyrion said aloud once again.

“I think we need to hear from Arya.” Bran admitted. “If our sister can confirm that what Lord Baelish is saying, then I will have no choice but to believe.” Bran stated, looking over the tall man in front of him.

“But how are you going to get Arya Stark to talk if she is on her way to pick a fight with her little brother and older sister?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“We still do not know for sure that she is coming to pick fights.” Sansa sighed while flicking the lonesome tear from her cheek and looking away from the others. The eyes in the room turned their attention onto her as she paused to push hair behind her shoulder and away from her neck. “When Arya comes, we need to play by her rules, assuming Bran's visions were true.” Sansa said before standing up from her seat. She looked around between Petyr, Tyrion and Bran. “I would like to be the person who greet Arya upon her arrival. I will be the person she will least expect.”

“I'm not sure that is such a good idea, your grace. What if she is ready to strike?” Tyrion asked, stepping forward.

“You under estimate the Queen, Lord Tyrion.” Petyr said, eyeing Sansa as a sly smile formed on his lips. “She is far more capable than you insist.”

Tyrion scoffed at Petyr, “I insist no such thing. I am merely fearing for the Queen safety.”

“The Queen's safety is none of your concern. I'm sure her royal guard will protect her life fiercely.” Petyr growled at Tyrion.

“Enough!” Sansa shouted. “Both of you are growing tiresome.” Sansa's exasperation was clear in the tone and urgency of her voice. “I am going to be the one to greet Arya and we will follow from there. Bran, how long do we have?” Sansa asked, turning her attention to her King brother.

“At least one month.” Bran simply answered his Queen sister.

“Then in this next month we will prepare for her arrival. In the mean time, I suggest you two learn how to play nice with one another. It's going to be a long and horrible month if you two cannot put aside your difference so we might prepare for what may come on Arya's arrival day.”

Sansa's words were the last to be said between the four of them before she exited from the room, her handmaid and Rayner following closely behind her to escort her to wherever she was headed toward.

Bran looked over at Tyrion, “I believe my sister has a point.” His eyes shifted over to Petyr, “You two must choose to be civil or learn to be friendly in the meantime. It is not the time to be selfish.” Bran's eyes crossed between two men who's faces were that of dislike for one another but clearly trying to hide the fact that they didn't like the idea.

* * *

A cool breeze swept Sansa's hair around against her face and the Queen quickly put her hands up to pull the hair from her face and tuck it behind her ears. The gusts were harsh and her eyes found the sky which looked quite harsh and the young Queen thought about turning around but she didn't want to stop. She had promised Rayner she wouldn't give up on their training and this were all just a part of it.

“Almost there, my Queen.” Rayner's voice came from behind Sansa.

The red haired Queen picked her dress up and trudged on. It wasn't but a few more moments before they were standing there atop the large hill. She had the perfect view of the sea on the mound but was only allowed to devour it for a moment before she could hear the clanking of metal behind her. Sansa turned to see Rayner dumping the sack of weapons on the ground.

“Shall we begin, your grace?” Rayner asked before kicking a sword which caused it to pop up and flip so that he could catch the handle of the sword in his grasp.

When Sansa nodded her head, Rayner tossed the sword in the Queen's direction. Sansa clumsily caught the sword, just barely catching it in her arms. She gave Rayner a glare of her eyes before he grinned and picked up a sword for himself.

“This is going to be just like our fighting with your dagger. We are going to start out slow. I want you to learn your form first. From there, I want you to learn the proper way to wield your sword. I want you to learn this before you learn to dance with your sword. But first, your sword is not there to hurt you.” Rayner begun to explain. His blonde hair held back behind his head neatly. The long red cape that hung from his armor was a stark contrast to his gray armor.

Sansa looked down at the sword. Her eyes studied the helm of the sword. It was beautifully intricate and was wonderfully crafted like everything else that was made in Winterfell. She felt as though things crafted in Winterfell were made with care and everyone put their heart and soul into what they made.

“Come now, Sansa. Grab your sword.” Rayner's words disconnected her from her thoughts. It wasn't often that Rayner called her Sansa. Only when they trained mainly. He said it was easier for him to attack a simple woman than a Queen, especially one that he protected. That didn't make Sansa feel comfortable but he promised he would never hurt her – so far Rayner had kept that promise.

Pushing her fingers around the grip of the sword, Sansa had to use both hands to hold the heavy metal. Rayner couldn't help but stifle a chuckle. His Queen could hear the squeak that slipped and she glared at him to which he quickly straightened up.

“Alright, now, first, your form.” Rayner held his sword in one hand and stood in a bit of a poised and posed position. “Straighten your back, push your shoulders back, and hold your sword out to the side.” Rayner explained to the Queen as he followed his own demand. “Elbows in at your sides and chin up.”

Rayner watched as the Queen struggled to stand up straight. Not only did the wind whipping her hair around her face make it harder for her to see, but the sword was so heavy for her. She had no strength in her arms like he did. He let out a muffled smirk and tried to keep his face from giving away the laugh that threatened to come from his lips.

“Bite your tongue, Rayner or I shall feed it to my dire wolves.” Sansa warned as her eyes crossed between them to look over at the man trying to stifle the laugh.

“I have said nothing.” Rayner remarked.

“Just in case you forget your place.” Sansa's tiny smile gave her away as she too threatened to laugh at herself.

“Let me help.” Rayner remarked before closing the gap between them.

Circling behind Sansa, Rayner walked behind the woman and slowly put his hands carefully around her wrists. Sansa was reminded in that moment just how much height he had on her as he made her feel much shorter always. One of the many reasons she kept a royal guard, mainly him, close at all times.

Adjusting the Queen's stature, Rayner pushed on her wrists to make Sansa's elbow press further against her waistline. He used his hip to gently push against her back so that she might straighten out a little more. He moved his right hand up to her chin and momentarily his fingers grazed her jawbone before pressing her chin up to level it with the flatness of the ground better.

“This sword is heavy.” Sansa complained. It made Rayner look down at her hand which was white-knuckling the handle. Rayner sighed and put his hand around her own to take most of the weight of both her hand and the sword in his own.

“Perhaps I shall get you a wooden one?” Rayner offered.

“No.” Sansa quickly replied. “I must learn how to use a real one.”

“Sansa, you have no strength in your arms. If we are to get you to be able to even old this properly, we must get you accustomed to the stance.” The blonde man insisted.

“How will I be able to learn to hold a real sword if I simply hold a fake wooden one?” Sansa shot him a look over her shoulder which made him take a step back causing Rayner to let his grasp over her hand go.

“Whatever you wish, your grace.” Rayner sighed. He knew his insistence would not get very far until Sansa realized he was right. It was one of his Queen's habits that he had caught onto. A stubborn Stark.

Finally when she could not take the whipping of the wind and the weight of the sword, Sansa let the sword drop into the grass and relaxed her stance so that she may push her hair behind her head.

“I don't know how we will ever get any training done like this. This wind is ridiculous!” Sansa growled and tried to pull her hair back completely but the wind was strong and continued to wip.

“Allow me.” Rayner said until he stepped forward once again.

Together, Sansa and Rayner were able to capture all of her hair in their hands. He produced a piece of material and tied it around the base of her hair. He than began to wrap the material around her hair that she held in her hands. As he moved it around her hair, she slowly let go until he had wrapped her hair in a bun securely at the base of her neck. In that moment, he stepped around to the front of her and gave her a kind smile. Sansa couldn't help but smile heavily at him. She never understood how Rayner could have been the killing machine that he was. To her, he was kind and gentle. It was a curiosity that plagued her thoughts.

“Shall we continue?” Rayner offered with a smile.

Sansa gave him a smile and a nod, “Thank you.”

“Now, your first lesson.” Rayner picked her sword back up again and placed it in her hand. “I will show you something you might do to help build the muscles in your arms. _Then_ we might work on your stance.”

Stepping in close to her body, he took her other hand in his and Rayner moved Sansa's free hand to the handle of the sword. He than mad her point the sword up. He stepped to the side, not letting her hands go and manipulated her hands to point the sword in front of her.

“If you take the sword in your hands like this and you move the sword,” Rayner paused and began to push her arms slowly up so that they were above her head, pointing the sword up above her head. “Like this, you will build the strength in your arms.” Rayner stepped back and watched his queen reprosition her arms and mimic his motions before.

“Well it's certainly easier to hold it with two hands.” Sansa couldn't help but chuckle.

Rayner allowed another chuckle to slip from his lips and nodded his head. “Of course, because your strength is doubled with both arms.” Rayner walked over to grab his sword of choice and turned to look at Sansa once he had it in his hand. “It's still so strange to see Queen Sansa Stark learning to fight.”

“Trust me, it's strange to learn these things.” Sansa said as she attempted to hold the sword with one hand but preferred her two hands to his one.

Suddenly Rayner tapped the tip of her sword with his and she readied herself. That was the sign he used for, 'prepare yourself to spar'. Sansa took a deep breath and held the sword in both hands.

“Ladies first.” A sly grin formed on the guard's face.

Sansa let out a growl and charged at him, slamming her sword against his with such brute force that it actually caused him to almost lose grip of his sword. Rayner looked at her, slightly shocked. She was getting better every time they trained and he felt a sense of pride in the fact that he had been the one to train her, to bring her to that point so far.

“Very good.” Rayner commented before he began throwing his sword about, clinking and clanging against hers with less force than she had used with him. “Block. Block. Block.” He shouted with every strike he delivered to her sword so that she would defend herself.

It was like a dance only the two of them knew. Rayner always went easy with Sansa to start a new lesson. Unlike others, when he knew she was ready, he added strength and wit to their training when he was sure she could take his power and his moved. Until then, everything he did came with an order and a shouted word that would give her the idea of what to do as he moved. Giving her the upper hand. Of course Sansa knew fighting in a real fight would be far more fierce but that was why she was doing this. To learn.

Rayner delivered a blow to her sword and when she blocked him, he was too close and one hand came loose from her hold on the sword and caused her to stumble back. At the same time, her feet caught on her dress and she was suddenly flat on her back when she lost her footing. The sword clanked against a rock beside her but she was able to somewhat catch herself on her elbows, painfully.

“Sansa!” Rayner dropped the sword and was at her side instantly. “Are you alright, your grace? Are you hurt?” He questioned before kneeling beside her and looking her over.

“Bruised.” Sansa sighed. “I wish I would have thought to have Hilda bring my training trousers.” Sansa put her hand out for him to take.

Taking her hand in his, Rayner helped Sansa to sit up. She wiped the front of her corset while he wiped the back. Suddenly, drops begun to fall from the sky as thunder clapped off in the distance and lightening flashed in their eyes.

“Lets get you inside.” Rayner sighed and slowly brought the two of them to their feet.

 


	5. Entwined

 

 Chapter Five – Entwined

* * *

By the time they found their way back into the shelter of the palace, Sansa and Rayner were soaked from the rain. It had only gotten more thunderous and the rain fell like waterfalls, coating their bodies in the slick wetness.

Once inside, Rayner was sure to escort his Queen back to her chamber and inside the solar, he placed the swords in the corner where she had asked him to keep their training materials for the time being. It would be safest, in her eyes, in her chambers so that she may keep some secrecy to herself and just between them.

“Shall I call Hilda, your grace?” Rayner suggested as he turned to see Sansa already working on the laces of her corset.

“No. Help me.” Sansa demanded of him.

Rayner hesitated before making his way across her solar where his fingers found hers. Sansa moved her fingers and allowed for Rayner to slowly unlace the tight corset which seemed even more unbearable now that she was soaking wet from head to toe. Her dress felt even heavier and the corset felt weighted down on top of that.

Feeling her bindings loosen with Rayner's help, the two lifted her corset from her waist and pulled it up and over her head together where Rayner laid it beside them on the table. Sansa turned quickly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, catching his lips with her own.

Slowly pulling back from the kiss, Rayner sighed and looked down into Sansa's eyes. He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek softly. “Are you sure this would be wise, my Queen.” He said quietly.

“I need your comfort.” Sansa sighed.

“What ails you, Sansa?” Rayner questioned. He searched her eyes deeply for what it was he must pluck from her mind and destroy so that she may be at peace.

“Everything. I feel as though I am right back where I begun.” Sansa explained quietly. “Remove your armor.” She demanded.

Just as she told him to, Rayner unlaced the bindings of his armor and lifted it above his head, removing it along with his red cape so that he was simply in the gray long-sleeve tunic and his trousers. Sansa's hands immediately began pulling at the hem of his tunic so she could lift it when his hands came down to stop her.

“Here? Wouldn't you feel more comfortable doing this back in Winterfell, your grace?” Rayner asked, clear worry in his tone as he spoke.

“Stop with the titles. There are no titles between us, Rayner. Not like this.” Sansa's breathed out. She was eager to bed in him that moment but Rayner had a feeling something was very wrong.

Raising his hands to slow her movements again made Sansa roll her eyes. “Sansa.” Was all that he said.

Sansa angrily pulled her hands back and tucked them under her arms once they crossed her chest. Her sight had quickly fell on his face and the look on her face was one of vexation.

“What is wrong?” Rayner persisted in his questioning of his Queen.

Sansa growled, “It's everything. Coming here was a mistake. I should have never left Winterfell.” She admitted to him.

“Why do you say such things?”

“Because, Rayner. Bran swears Arya is coming with a fight in mind. Then I've got Tyrion and Petyr at each others throats because of me and now I feel like a prisoner again. I feel like I'm only here to be a pawn in the game.” The red haired woman's face had grown red as she spoke, tears threatening to fall.

Rayner lifted his hands to cup her cheeks in his large palms and stroke the softness of her cheeks to help to calm her. “You are no prisoner, Sansa Stark. You are _Queen_ Sansa Stark of the North. You are a powerful woman. If you want to leave, I will gather our things, Hilda and the men and we will march back to the North if you wish it.”

Sighing, Sansa shook her head and relaxed a little at his words and his warm hands against her cold cheeks. “I wish it were that simple. I just want to be home.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling her body into his caused Rayner to move his hands from Sansa's cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders in return, allowing her to rest her cheek against his shoulders and he protectively held her in his arms. Rayner stroked the length of her back with his fingertips at the same time that he nuzzled the side of her head with his lips.

“Would you like me to bring a piece of home to you?” Rayner whispered against her hair.

Sansa nodded her head without speaking another word. Without saying another word to her, Rayner was pulling Sansa toward the door that would take them into her temporary bed chamber. On the other side of the door, the latch of the door secured to give them the most privacy, Rayner began to remove the wet clothing from his Queen's body.

Standing at the foot of her bed now, Rayner began to remove the many layers of her gown before she stood nude before him. He couldn't help but step back and allow himself to take in the view of her beautiful young body. She was soberly beguiling. She needn't anything special to make her so alluring. Her beauty was natural and it was enough to make him lose his breath.

Undressing himself was far easier than undressing her but once the two were completely nude in front of one another, Rayner couldn't help but feel the erection growing at his midsection. He stepped forward and allowed his hands to snake around the Queen's dainty form before his hands found her backside and was quickly pulling her up by her backside to which she responded by jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

With her arms around his shoulders, Sansa pressed her lips against his. His hands kneading her backside made her moan into the passionate kiss she shared with her guard. Rayner was gentle with Sansa, albeit eager. He was no stranger to her bed but he never expected that she would want to go this far while in Kings Landing. Whatever is Queen wanted, his Queen got. Especially when _he_ was what she wanted.

Sansa felt the soft material of the duvet under her back before she realized Rayner had laid her down against the bed, her arms and legs still wrapped around him. The moment she felt the bed, she removed her limbs from his body and broke the kiss they had been locked in. She moved, using her bruised elbows to help her position herself better on her bed. Rayner followed suit, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees.

“Comfort me, guard.” Sansa muttered with a wicked grin on her lips as soon as Rayner had moved over her body slowly.

“As you wish, my Queen.” Rayner said with a nod and a matching smile on his lips as well.

Starting at her legs, Rayner positioned himself so that the back of her thighs rested on the tops of his shoulders. His strong arms wrapped around her thighs, bringing his hands around to her belly where he stroked the soft flesh. In the same instance, he was kissing her inner thighs. Leaving little invisible trails around the strong muscles of her thighs, teasing her first. He knew how wild it drove her. It also helped ease her into the act of intercourse.

Rayner's eyes met with Sansa's just as he dipped his head between her thighs to kiss just above where her center was. She closed her eyes and her body stiffened slightly. Rayner was used to the feeling and knew he needed to ease her into the act. She wanted it but the fear was always there at first. Leaning his head further, he dipped and found her sex warm and waiting. The heat radiated from her skin so much that he felt it on his chin as he moved to bring his Queen the utmost pleasure.

Watching her, Rayner wanted to ensure that if she felt any sort of pain, any sort of resistance, he would know and would stop immediately. Rayner met the flat of his tongue with her crevice which elicited a sigh from her lips as they parted. This was his favorite part.

Using the muscle of his tongue, Rayner begun to past the opening of her folds where he was met with the heat of her womanhood. He could taste the small bit of sweetness that had been produced and in that moment he closed his eyes, bringing his full attention to her growing wetness. Flattening his tongue once again, he brought it up between her folds where it was met with the bundle of nerves just at the top, evoking a quiet moan from Sansa's lips.

Again and again he continued to repeat the motions until he replaced his tongue with one of the strong digits of his hand. Rayner pulled back just enough so he could look down and watch the digit slip between her now moist folds and her walls accepted his finger into her depths, drawing out another moan of excitement from her throat.

At this point, Rayner's erection was pressing painfully against the bed. He knew it was time.

Rayner moved to kneel on the bed. His hands took her thighs in their grasp and pulled her down a bit roughly until her cheeks rested against his thighs. Sansa watched him as he stroked her thighs anxiously. His greedy hunger for her were clear in his eyes and it was something she enjoyed about Rayner. He didn't hold back but he didn't hurt her in the ways that Ramsay had done before.

Their eyes found once another after Rayner positioned himself at her opening. The tip of his manhood invaded the delicate soft space between Sansa's eyes. She gave him a nod of approval before he pushed into her, sheathing himself inside of her slowly. Inch by inch at first. Easy and gentle. Sansa bit her lip, her eyes rolling back and the heels of her feet dug into the bed.

Trapped in the depth of her body completely and fully, Rayner placed one hand on her waist and the other on the pillow, just beside Sansa's head. Leisurely, he moved in and out of her womanhood. He gave her the time and the effort to accept him into her and become accustomed to the thickness of his sex.

Soft grunts came from Rayner's throat as his hips began to quicken. Sansa's hands found his sides. Her fingers touched over every strong muscle on his back. Her fingers stroked over his skin even as he broke into a sweat. Sansa parted her thighs at the same time to allow him further access, allowing him to drive into her steadily.

Their bodies moved together in a dance all their own, just like their training. Sansa's moan became a little louder. Rayner moved to stifle those noises with his lips so he could kiss her. He could feel her nails digging into his back now, painfully. He grunted into the kiss from the pain but still, he didn't stop. He only rolled his hips into hers quicker and harder. Never did he drive into her to an unbearable force but enough to show his eagerness to please her.

In one swift motion, Rayner pulled back. He moved his hands to her backside and gripped the round globes in his palms before rolling so that she were on top of him and he lay back against the bed now. He dug his heels into the bed, his knees arched upward slightly so he could still drive into her like this. Now it was her turn to control their pace.

Whining sounds filled the room as Sansa bent forward, her hands on his chest and her knees against the bed. He was as deep as he would be able to go in her center and it was always slightly painful. However, it always evoked a pleasured feeling to find the tips of her limbs and her body begun to tingle.

Riding him now, Sansa moved her hips. His hands stayed on her round cheeks, kneading and helping to move her hips exactly the way he knew she needed. He helped her grind her body down every time she drove herself down onto his length completely. It made the sensitive button between her thighs tingle each time when it was ground into the base of his length.

Sansa's climax wasn't far off now from their switching positions and Rayner could feel it as her walls contracted and pulsed around him. As they begun to swell, he move his hands to her waist where he held her and helped her move even more but it also allowed him to push his hips up into hers, driving himself with every stroke into her. It drove him closer to the edge every time.

Within a few strokes, Sansa's head rolled back, her eyes shut and her hips simply rocked. Her sex clamped around his manhood and she cried out. Her hands stilled and her whole body went rigid as the coiling in her belly caused the pull back and the explosion of her climax. She flooded the length of him as she sat there, so very still on top of him.

Rayner however continued to pump into her from beneath adding the fuel to the fire. His hand reached up and gasped one of her breasts in his hand just as his belly wound back and the force of his explosion caused the woman on top of him to moan, feeling him fill her with his seed.

Collapsing forward onto his body, Sansa rested her head against his chest, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Once his hips had halted completely, Sansa rolled off of her royal guard and laid on her back. Both lay there panting, trying their hardest to breath normally again.

“My favorite kind of comfort.” Rayner chuckled as he turned on his side and pulled the Queen against.

Sansa chuckled and allowed him to pull her sweaty body against his. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes as her breathing was slowly returning to normal. There was a lull that began in the air that mixed with the euphoria she was blanketed with. The sound of the rain outside and the sound of his breathing created a sweet lullaby in her body which allowed Sansa to slowly slip into sleep.

* * *

 

“Queen Sansa?” The voice came from the door.

Stirring in her sleep, Sansa opened her eyes and looked beside her. As always, the bed was empty. She sighed and pulled her duvet up around her naked body and slowly sat up her back against the pillows. “Come in, Hilda.” Sansa called out. Her handmaid's voice was the most familiar.

Stepping through the threshold of the door, Hilda, the young blonde handmaid appeared and stood in the doorway of Sansa's room.

“My Queen, shall I ready you a bath before supper?” Hilda asked softly.

“That would be lovely, Hilda.” Sansa yawned out.

“Yes, your grace.” Hilda gave a nod to her Queen before exiting back through the door and shutting it softly behind her.

Sansa looked out of her window and looked into the distance where the clouds had begun to break as the storm had long since ended and the sun was threatening to break through. Her mind began to drift to the man she had shared her bed with hours before. Rayner. Her royal guard. The person she believed was her most trusted ally and servant – other than Tirius.

Sansa and Rayner had used one another over the last few years. He came to her aid when she held a celebration in honor of her family. A fight had broken out which threatened Sansa's life. Suddenly he was there. A sword to the man's throat who had threatened the Queen. Sansa allowed Rayner to slay the man for his insolence.

After that, Sansa questioned Rayner. Come to find out he had trained with Jon at the wall. He was a bastard who had been sent to the wall as a young boy. He was there already when Jon had arrived and after Sansa became Queen, he used this to his advantage and didn't return to the wall. He admitted that he had been living under a false name; Lord Kendin Blackthorn. He was actually Rayner Abbey, bastard son of Polly Abbey and Jacques Blackthorn. Sansa offered him a honorable position among her men to which Rayner accepted.

Rayner no longer needed to live under a falsehood. He was given the name Rayner Blackthorn, son of Jacques Blackthorn. Sansa had the power to legitimize him and she gladly did so as a favor to the man that saved her life. Slowly over the years he had proven to be her best guard and before he knew it, he was her general and her personal royal guard. It was his main job to protect her at all costs and he pledged that with his life.

The first time Sansa felt anything for Rayner was the night they were celebrating their newest addition to the North. Sansa had constructed the first school in the North. She called it an 'academy'. A place where children would go to learn. She wanted the North to not only become a powerful force but one that had the brains to back them up. It was a wonderful feat for the North and was certainly one of her most proud accomplishments.

Rayner had escorted Sansa back to her chambers discretely. She had far too much wine that evening and helped her into bed. To his surprise she kissed him. Rayner wanted to stay with her after that and even tried to bed her right then and there but she refused him and sent him off with embarrassment in her eyes.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Rayner and Sansa tried to ignore what happened but Rayner couldn't help himself and he began to seduce his Queen. Even though he knew it was wrong, what he felt for her was nothing like he had felt for any other woman before. Sansa wasn't just his Queen but a woman who he was falling for very quickly. Finally, he won the Queen's affection and she bed him.

Afterwards, Sansa battled with her feelings. Rayner was her most trusted guard and had become one of her closest friends. She wasn't sure _love_ was the word to describe how she felt for him. Sansa admired Rayner, she adored Rayner. But _love_? It wasn't a feeling she fathomed since she was forced to marry Ramsay. Sansa was thankful for Rayner's affection and cherished those moments she shared with him. He helped to ease her into what sex was really like when she wasn't with a monster.

Sansa felt a pang of guilt in her chest. She often wondered what would happen if she never found someone else to marry and have children with. A King to rule beside her and little princes and princesses to fill the castle. Would she settle for someone like Rayner? Would she never marry? No. The thought of settling or never marrying was a terrifying one.

With her child bearing years slowly growing longer, she knew she needed to make these decisions soon. Sansa was reluctant. Her head constantly filled with doubt and skeptical thoughts. It burned her her mind as soon as she were left alone like this. When she had a second to think for once. It was something that left her feeling even more guilt and shame.

It also didn't help that now, she had Rayner, Petyr and Tyrion all clearly wading for her affection. Sansa wondered what would happen. If they would kill one another, try to pin something awful against one another. Well, Rayner would be out of that race. Really it were just Petyr and Tyrion who would fight one another. Rayner was her secret. Still, she knew the three of them wanted her just as much as the next and there was the decision she would soon have to make. The imp who spared her? The mockingbird who guided her? Or the guard who saved her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've used Chris Hemsworth as Thor to be Rayner. Lets just be honest; they'd be a sexy couple. I made an edit of these two pictures that I used for the Chapter's picture and you can't tell me, they're not a good looking could.  
> https://i.imgur.com/2Fjph27.png  
> Haha! Anyways, I wanna thank you guys who have been keeping up with the story! I can't wait to see where this story goes and I hope you all enjoy it!


	6. Soul Into Hades

 

 Chapter Six – Soul Into Hades

* * *

 

“You look perturbed.” Rayner said quietly to Sansa as he escorted her down the halls toward her chamber.

“I am tired.” Sansa simply remarked, keeping one foot ahead of him.

Rayner could tell by the tone in her voice that Sansa didn't want to chat. Her pleasantries would go no further than allowing him to escort her to her chamber as he did on a normal evening. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, cup her cheek in his palm and kiss her problems away. He did no such actions. Rayner kept his composure as he walked beside his queen.

Something was bothering her and he hoped she would tell him as she had normally done. Rayner noticed during their training session she was unusually quiet and her face was solemn. She didn't quite have an emotion clearly written across her face but her force, the way she swung her sword, the way she jutted her arms forward as if she truly meant to harm him, said otherwise. He said no words. He simply would wait as he always had.

As they arrived at the hallway that would lead them to her chamber, Sansa's eyes fell on the man that stood outside of her door, facing the opposite way. She could hear the movement of parchment in his hands as he rolled up a scroll and she watched as he turned and tucked it away in his pocket when their eyes met.

“Lord Baelish.” Sansa's tone was curious but not so curious that she were excited about seeing him.

“Your grace.” Petyr smiled and bowed his head. He reached out and took Sansa's hand in his own and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, lingering a little longer than proper.

Rayner took note of this and raised a brow. His anger built up at the base of his spine. But he kept his face emotionless, mirroring Sansa's almost.

Glancing up at the burly man, Petyr pulled away from Sansa slowly and looked into her eyes, ignoring him. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”

“I'm not in the mood, Lord Baelish.” Sansa rolled her eyes and pushed past him.

“I really must speak with you, Sansa.” Petyr insisted.

A hand on his shoulder made Petyr look up at the strong guard who had taken a hold of his shoulder. “The Queen doesn't wish to speak to you. I strongly suggest that you leave her be before I force you to leave her be.” Rayner barked at Petyr.

Never faltering, Petyr turned his attention back to Sansa who stood with her key to her room in her hand and looked back at the two men. She watched as Petyr opened his mouth to speak but Sansa groaned a frustrated sigh and rolled her eyes again.

“Fine. Just leave your witty remarks here.” Sansa informed him. She turned her eyes up to her guard. “Let him go.”

Stepping back, he would not fuss with the Queen over this. Petyr shrugged his shoulder and Rayner's hand fell from his thin shoulder. The lord shot the knight a look before turning his attention back to Sansa and followed her into the room. Rayner let a little growl slip out as the door closed behind them. He took his stance outside of Sansa's door and licked his teeth in frustration.

Inside the solar, Petyr stood just in front of Sansa's fireplace which bore signs of a fire from the previous night. The days grew warmer but the nights still belonged to the Winter. He turned around when he could hear clinking of metal. Sansa had decided to pour herself a glass of wine and took a seat at her table.

“I don't believe you came into my chambers to admire my fireplace.” Sansa wittily remarked.

Petyr couldn't help the grin that formed on his face as he took steps toward the table to join her. “I believe you wanted witty marks to be left outside, your grace.” Petyr pointed out.

Sansa brought the glass to her lips and took a sip before placing it down on the table top. “I said you couldn't make any witty remarks. That doesn't include me.”

“Ah, spoken like a true Queen.” Petyr's smile widened before he too took a drink of his own glass of wine.

“Why have you come?” Sansa sat back in her seat and took a deep breath. Her eyes found his always alluring green eyes. She never knew how to get away from him the moment their eyes met. It was a talent she was sure he didn't realize he possessed.

“I just wanted to explain a few things to you in private.” Petyr begun, his voice soft. He reached out with his arm and pull the free chair around so that he could sit in front of her. He wanted to be face to face with Sansa.

“More lies?” Sansa asked, bringing the glass to her lips again.

Petyr shook his head as he took his seat and a deep breath followed.

“You received my scrolls. There are many things I said in those scrolls that I want to clarify.” Petyr sat back in his seat and looked directly into Sansa's eyes.

“Go on.” Sansa simply replied, allowing him the freedom to discuss his messages to her. “Perhaps you should be sure you tell me the truth, Lord Baelish. I have become quite good at spotting lies, especially from a liar.” She warned him.

Taking a deep breath, Petyr readied himself to speak. “I have made many lies. They are all, however, within reason.”

“A lie is a lie is a lie.” Sansa cut him off with a sigh. “Get on with it. I have much to tend to this afternoon.” She herself uttered a lie from her lips.

Taking a note at her exasperation, Petyr wondered if maybe it really were best to try at another time. He really didn't want to try another time. He wanted to speak to her now. He wanted to get this burden off of his chest. He desired to feel closer to Sansa and the only thing he felt would do that is telling the truth to her, finally.

“I helped you you escape from Kings Landing. I hid you in the Eyrie. I did things right. I also did things wrong. I'm not happy that I caused you pain. Sansa Stark, you must believe me when I tell you that you are far more precious than gold, than a seat on the throne, than all of the women in the world.” Petyr began. This time, Sansa didn't speak, didn't move. She merely shifted her eyes so that she could look into his own.

“The moment I learned of the beheading of your father, I immediately started questioning every source I had. Something didn't feel right about his death. Well, it didn't take long for me to find out what really happened.” Petyr paused and took a deep breath and licked his dry lips. “Cersei Lannister conspired with Roose Bolton to frame your family. Joffrey didn't want to marry you. He didn't want you to be his queen. But Cersei knew as well as anyone else that your betrothal to Joffrey would mean the North finally belonged to the Lannisters once and for all.”

Watching him speak, Sansa couldn't help but believe every word he spoke. His eyes held no lie. She felt deep in her heart that for once Petyr Baelish was being completely truthful to her. Still, she kept herself quiet.

“The North had belonged to one family for generations and it was the one place that had never belonged to the royal family. Cersei promised the north to Roose on a lie. She promised him that he would gain his own crown as you have and they would work together. Before I disappeared from Kings Landing, Cersei demanded that I find you and kill you myself and then I was to send men to the North to bring Roose Bolton to Kings Landing as your father had and the same fate would befall him. I however refused.”

“I don't know if I can believe that.” Sansa suddenly spoke.

“Why would you believe that I would have the intent to kill you?” Petyr asked in confusion.

“It's not that. I don't believe you would harm me at all. The part about Cersei asking you to bring the Bolton's to Kings Landing is what I do not believe.” Sansa informed him.

“Well believe it, Sansa. Roose saw what was coming to him and that he too would live a similar fate to your father and refused. So instead when we were in the Eyrie, I had the idea that maybe if I married you to Ramsay, he wouldn't believe that I had any sort of hidden agenda. I was giving him Sansa Stark after all. Why would I give him a gift if I had an agenda?”

“But you knew Ramsay was ruthless like his father. You knew Ramsay's cruelty toward others. Why would expect anything less from him for me?” Sansa interrogated further.

“Because you didn't know what I knew, I knew you couldn't give me away for one. For two, I knew Ramsay had taken on many lovers but never were there whispers that he mistreated his women the way he mistreated others. I believed that if you had no guise, you were simply Sansa Stark and when the time was right, I was going to have Ramsay murdered and Roose forced to Kings Landing so Cersei could do what he wished. By the time he was handed over to her, you would be the only surviving ruler in the North meaning the North would be yours and you would be home. _That_ was my plan, sweetling. I never meant for anything else to happen to you.”

Reaching out, Petyr placed his hand on Sansa's hand which sat in her lap. Her eyes followed his movement. This time, she didn't shift or move away. She simply allowed him to take her hand in his own. Her eyes traveled up until green met with blue and she couldn't help but feel that again, Petyr Baelish was being honest.

“But that isn't what happened, Petyr.” Sansa said with tears glittering the rims of her eyes. “I was beaten and _raped_ every day. Ramsay _tortured_ me. No matter how loud I screamed. No matter how much I begged and pleaded with him to stop. He took the most pleasure in ensuring that I felt every bit of pain that he bestowed upon me. He even made sure that I bore the marks to always be reminded of those who betrayed me and gave me to the devil himself.”

By the time she had paused, Sansa's cheeks were littered with the tears. They melted quickly against her burning cheeks as they made their way to her chin.

“And I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you.” Petyr declared. He shifted forward while bringing his hand up to wipe away her tears with the backs of his finger. “My every intention was to protect you from harm. I made the biggest mistake by handing you over to the care of Ramsay and Roose Bolton.” Petyr's voice began to crack as he spoke. His eyes too swelled with emotions as tears threatened to be set free on his face. He however, had the strength to hold them back.

“I would have been perfectly okay in the Eyrie with you.” Sansa admitted to him. Even as she silently cried, she had to let him know how she felt.

“I would have been just as happy in the Vale with you as I would have in the North with my family. You promised me peace. You promised me love. You promised so much and that was all I wanted, Petyr. I went to the North as a hopeful young girl but by the time I killed Ramsay Bolton I was a broken woman. I just wanted to not feel like a pawn. I was so tired of being an instrument for everyone to use.”

More tears littered Sansa's cheeks before she allowed herself to stand and shrug his touch away from her so she could turn her back on him and look out at the water from the inside of her solar. Stopping just short of her balcony, he crossed her arms over her chest and wiped her cheeks free of her tears with her fingers.

Petyr looked up, watching her as his heart broke. He knew he had done wrong to Sansa Stark. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making it up to her too.

Standing, Petyr approached the Queen apprehensively and kept his distance. “You must know that I would have never allowed such mistreatment.” Petyr insisted still. “I don't know how I can prove this to you, Sansa.”

“I don't think I will ever completely believe that, Petyr.” Sansa turned her head to look at Petyr from over her shoulder. “Everyone knew of Ramsay's barbaric perversions. Surely you did as well.”

“They were just whispers. No proof to claim the rumors to be true, sweetling.” Petyr stepped forward once again as he spoke and Sansa turned her head to look back out at the ocean.

“It doesn't change the fact that you left me with a monster. I used to think Joffrey was a monster. Ramsay Bolton made Joffrey Baratheon resemble a puppy compared to him.” Sansa flicked a few more tears from her rosy cheeks.

“And I feel total and unmitigated guilt for leaving you in the care of the devil's hands.” Petyr continued to slowly move forward as he spoke. “I take full responsibility for that. Your blood is on my hands. Your pain had laden my heart. Your anger had burdened my soul. It is I to blame. I do not doubt that.”

Petyr's hands evaded the space around Sansa's waist as he reached her. His fingers slithered past her sides, gently pressing against her corseted waist waist until his hands were pressed against the front of the corset. He tugged her back into his arms protectively and Sansa gave no resistance. Her hands came up to press against his own and to his surprise she leaned back into his embrace.

With his lips cheek pressed against the crown of her head, he whispered softly in her ear, “I will spend the rest of my life proving to you just how much regret I feel for what I've done.” Sansa's eyes fell shut as more tears were released, listening to his words, feeling him press against her and gave a small shutter. “Give me the chance to prove this to you.”

“I don't know.” Sansa whimpered quietly. “I don't know that I can forgive you.”

“All I ask is that you ward me the chance to try to redeem myself in your eyes.” Petyr muttered against her hair. He brought his hand up to stroke the tears from her cheeks again. “I am at your command, your slave, your servant. I am here to support aid and succor in any way you wish.”

Sansa let out a quiet sob before turning in his arms and burrowing her face in his neck. Her arms came around his shoulders and she quietly cried into his arms. Her body was riddled with sadness as she cried. Shaking gently as he held her there in return. He stroked her growing hair down her back and hushed the woman with a slew of coos from his lips.

“Do not cry, my love.” Petyr purred in her ear. “Shh, this too shall pass and one day we will look back on such trivial matters and we will see just how we have prevailed.”

“What if I can never forgive you?” Sansa sniffled just as she pulled back from the confinement of his neck where her reddened blue eyes searched into his misty green orbs.

“Then I will never stop trying to repair what has been broken at my expense.” Petyr simply sighed. His hand found her cheek where he used the padding of his thumb to wisp away her tears, his gaze never leaving hers.

As her tears subsided and a silence fell over the room, they continued to look into each others eyes. It was as if they were saying so much without uttering a single word.

“I would prefer if we may keep this to ourselves.” Sansa was the first to break the silence between the two of them. “It is no one's business to know.” Sansa insisted.

Petyr nodded his head, “I couldn't agree with you more, sweetling. It would be best to tell no one until you are ready. You have all of the time in the world and if that day never comes then I will forever be your best kept secret.”

A reassurance fell over Sansa like a vale. She took a deep and uneasy breath and step back from Petyr, breaking the embrace they had over one another.

“Will you allow me to join you for supper? Perhaps we may enjoy light banter. No stress. No worry. Just a man and a woman enjoying a warm meal.” Petyr asked with a smile on his lips.

Sansa nodded her head and sniffled. “I would like that very much.”

 


	7. Self Deception

 

* * *

 Chapter Seven – Self Deception

* * *

Two weeks since arriving in Kings Landing meant that it would only be about another two weeks before Arya arrived with her band of men. Sansa still didn't believe that Arya's intentions were unfavorable. She truly believed that whatever was coming to Kings Landing was simply Arya returning home and any ill intentions would be simply from the men she was bringing with her. She couldn't believe that it were Arya who would do such things.

In the last few weeks, Sansa's confusion over her love life hadn't gotten any easier or any clearer. Between the three men that had spun her in a web of indecision, Sansa was no closer to picking and choosing a suitor for her throne. Although she spent a lot of time with Rayner, Petyr was gaining speed in the race and it seemed Tyrion was suddenly lost in their dust. However, it didn't stop Sansa from feeling _something_ for the imp.

At court, Sansa indulged in conversation with Tyrion who was just as smart as he were clever. His chats were pleasant and full of good intent. He talked much about one day working with Tirius to build an even stronger relationship between the North and the rest of Westeros. He even spoke of maybe Sansa helping to build an academy in Kings Landing. Bran enjoyed the idea of being able to teach both the poor and the rich. It was Sansa's greatest accomplishment thus far and felt recognition when praised for it.

When training, Sansa indulged herself in Rayner's strength and his agility. Watching him work fiercely to train her on something as simple as wielding a sword or to swing one was a work of art in itself. He was dedicated to the crown, to his work, to Sansa. His undivided attention was Sansa's safety alone. He had sworn an oath to protect his Queen and he was fiercely doing his best to keep that oath.

Then of course, there was Petyr. They often spent meals in her solar, drinking wine and eating the delicious food that was prepared for them. Petyr enlightened Sansa's spirit and gave her guidance and tips for being a proper Queen, something she had never really had. They also spoke of love. Sansa confessed things to Petyr she had felt since becoming Queen. Of her pressure to marry, her pressure to produce heirs. Petyr explained that it was normal, that it was something that was expected of Queens and Sansa expressed her need to be different. Petyr would tell her that it was things such as her need to be different that already made her a better Queen than any who had wore a crown in centuries.

These three very different men had all given Sansa something to offer. A warm embrace, a hand to hold and a companionship unlike anything she had ever had before. Each man also had flaws. Tyrion's lust for wine and his melancholy. Rayner's brutish ways and his jealousy toward other men around Sansa. Petyr's habitual lying and his devious nature that often left a selfish imprint. All had the good and the bad, each one different than the other. It clouded Sansa's judgment and made things all the more difficult.

* * *

“Queen Sansa,” A voice came from behind Sansa as she walked down the path in the garden. She turned her head to see Hilda hurrying toward her. “A raven, your grace.” Hilda handed Sansa the scroll she had been carrying.

“Thank you, Hilda.” Sansa smiled at the young girl before she walked back in the direction she had come.

Looking down at the scroll in her hands, Sansa pulled the string around it and rolled open the parchment so that she could read it. _'Your Grace, we wish you well from the North. Your academy is thriving. Many of the children have begun attending lessons. When you return we wish to have a celebration in honor of them. Cemrin Locke.'_

A smile formed on the Queen's lips quickly as her eyes scanned the scroll. There was a warmth that spread over her being in that moment. Her soul felt full and accomplished. She had done something good, something _right_. It had always been her dream to allow the knowledge that was bestowed onto her siblings to be given to those who were less fortunate of coming from a family with status. It would mark the beginning of the new North.

“That smile is one I could look upon when I'm old and gray.” Petyr's voice came from nowhere.

Sansa lifted her head and her eyes followed an invisible path to where the man stood just at a bush of roses, holding on in his hand that he had brought to his nose to smell but his eyes bore into Sansa deeply.

“Lord Baelish.” Sansa grinned before tucking the scroll away in her sleeve and approached the man. “I believe you are already old and gray.” Sansa jibed playfully as he approached her.

“I believe you have a point, your grace.” He smiled at the joke. “Must we be so formal?” Petyr questioned as he handed the rose over to the Queen.

“In the open, yes.” Sansa insisted as she took the rose in her fingers and twirled it a little. “I demand it.” She winked.

Petyr grinned and took his stance beside her, taking her arm in his and pressing her hand into his bicep. “Allow me to escort you, my Queen.”

“I need no escort.” Sansa protested.

“What have I always told you about Kings Landing?” Petyr asked while looking beside him at his Queen.

“When the world was ruled by the Lannisters, you had a good reason to believe such things. However, there are Starks that rule the world now. We are not liars.” Sansa said with a roll of her eyes.

“You are very right. But you can never to too careful, your grace.” Petyr spoke to Sansa as he begun to walk with her. “Where is your gorilla of a guard?” Petyr asked, glancing around as if to look for Rayner.

Sansa gave him a playful tap on his hand. “That is very unkind, Lord Baelish. He is no gorilla. And if you must know, I gave him the day to himself. Rayner has been under the weather for a few days and can use the rest.” Sansa explained.

Petyr nodded his head, “You are truly a generous Queen. Still, you should always have an escort.”

“Says you and everyone else. I am a Stark. I can handle myself.”

“Yes, yes you can.” Petyr glanced beside him at Sansa where they both grinned at his comment. “Do tell me what in your scroll made you smile so wide. I don't believe I have seen a smile so big on your lips before.” Petyr looked ahead as they walked further down the path of green shrubs, trees and flowers. He made a mental note that he had never seen Kings Landing so beautifully decorated.

“Well, I have built an academy in the North.” Sansa revealed as she walked alongside him.

“An academy? That is admirable! I am sure you will teach the children yourself if you allow.” Petyr's smile grew wider at her admittance.

“I wish.” Sansa chuckled. “I have opened it for the poor and the rich. I believe that it is a right of every child that they should be able to read and write. They should know what their parents learned the hard way. Why should only those of prominent and noble blood be allowed such a gift? It is the poor that help to run out cities and work in the shadows to ensure that things are done on our behalf.” Sansa was happy that this was something she would be known for.

“I think that is marvelous feat and you should be commended for your wonderful achievement!” Petyr let go of Sansa just long enough so that he may stop and face her, taking her hands in his own. “We must celebrate!”

“No. We mustn't.” Sansa sighed as her smile quickly faded. “We must prepare for Arya's arrival still. It will be a fortnight before she arrives and we must be ready.”

“Sansa Stark, you are ever prepared. Let Bran worry about that for a night. You deserve to be celebrated.” Petyr sighed and lifted Sansa's hands to his lips where he kissed the back of her knuckles softly. “Must you always put others first?” Petyr questioned.

A shrug of her shoulders, “I can celebrate later when the dust of Arya's arrival has settled. I feel this whole ordeal with Arya is just one big misunderstanding and she is just returning home but until that happens, I just wish to prepare.”

“And how do you expect to prepare? We have a plan. There are men stationed where they should to alert us of her arrival. Everything is already in place and has been discussed. How else do you intend to prepare?” Petyr asked, further curious of her intentions to prepare for Arya's arrival.

Sighing quietly, Sansa looked into Petyr's eyes. “You have a point.” She hated admit when someone was right, especially Petyr.

“Wonderful! I will have them prepare a special feast tonight in honor of Queen Sansa Stark of the North. We will drink. We will feast. We will entertain and be entertained.” Petyr grinned before taking a stance beside her again to continue escorting her.

* * *

Music filled the great hall as men and women danced. The lot of prominent people who filled the large room had their fill of their feast accompanied with their choice of ale and wine. They celebrated in Sansa's honor. They cheered to her. They took in copious amounts of the alcohol of their choice in her name. They danced and sang on her behalf. It was far more than what she had been expecting. She thought Petyr was going to have them send a big supper to her solar this evening. She didn't expect a literal feast.

“I believe this is the first thing Lord Baelish has done that I can agree with.” Tyrion's voice came from beside Sansa.

The red haired queen looked beside her at the dwarf who sat in his seat with his cup full. Sansa smiled over at the man she was once married to. “I have to say, it's nice to see you two getting along for once.”

“Well, we are celebrating you. What debate is to be had there?” Tyrion grinned and raised his glass. Sansa raised her as well. “To the Queen of the North. Long may she spread peace and knowledge to her kingdom. May she teach others the importance of bettering your people and taking care of home.”

Sansa grinned wildly, a slight blush formed on her already rosy cheeks. She clinked her glass with Tyrion's and both took sips of their drinks.

“You have always had a way with words, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa complimented Tyrion once she swallowed her sip and placed her glass back on the table. She rested her hand on the arm of her chair and relaxed back.

“But it is true, your grace. If every Queen and King had thought as you have, Westeros would be quite different.” Tyrion placed his hand softly on Sansa's hand. “Don't you think?”

Sansa's eyes followed Tyrion's hand as it landed on hers. He stroked her knuckles with his fingers and she smiled sweetly at the gesture along with his very king words. It was true no matter how flirtatious he was being with her.

“Queen Sansa, everyone!” A voice shouted from the middle of the room. It caused Sana and Tyrion to jump in unison at the sudden outburst. They parted their hands and turned their attention to where it had come from only to see a man with a woman on his arm, putting his chalice in the air to toast to Sansa.

Everyone raised their cups together at him and turned their attention to Sansa. They bowed all at once and shouted her name before the music returned and the crowed continued to dance. It wasn't something Sansa was used to. Even back home in the North when there were feasts, Sansa couldn't believe that they celebrated her. She was once just a simple girl from the North. Of course her family always held some sort of power but not like this. People didn't shout their names in honor. It was still such a shock to her.

Tyrion was about to lean over to say something to Sansa when a figure appeared on the opposite side of her. Petyr. He placed his hands on Sansa's shoulders before leaning forward and whispering something unknown into her ear. Sansa nodded her head.

“Will you excuse me?” Sansa asked. Tyrion responded with a nod of his head.

With that, Petyr helped pull Sansa's chair out from under her so that she wouldn't fall on the skirt of her dress before taking her hand in his and walking away. It left Tyrion sitting and sneering at the two. He agreed that Sansa should be celebrated but Tyrion didn't trust Petyr Baelish. He never could and he never would. No matter how much Sansa wished for them to get along. There was such thing as being civil but that was as far as he would go for the queen.

“Where are we going?” Sansa whispered as she followed Petyr out of the great room and down a long corridor that was dimly lit by the torches along the walls.

Petyr simply turned to Sansa as they momentarily stopped. He pressed his finger to his lips to hush the fiery haired Queen before turning to continue his venture. They didn't stop until a few minutes later when they arrived at a door. Petyr took a key from his pocket and used it to open the door. He opened the door and gestured for Sansa to enter in before him. Sansa smiled and walked through the doorway before he followed suit.

Shutting the door softly behind them, Petyr placed the key safely back into his pocket as his eyes watched Sansa walk to his sitting area where a small table sat with two tables on either side of it. On the surface of the table sat a decanter and two glasses. She immediately poured herself a glass and lifted the red liquid to her lips to deeply gulp down the liquid generously.

“Well now, your grace. I've never witnessed you drink so much.” Petyr remarked in fascination.

“Well now,” Sansa said as she took a gasping breath before sitting the glass back down on the table and turning her head to the side to look at Petyr. “I've grown to quite enjoy the taste of wine, Lord Baelish.”

Turning her body, Sansa walked toward the fireplace where a fire roared inside. Petyr's eyes watched her move like a hawk stalking it's prey. He didn't strike or make sudden moves. His body moved with fluidity and grace as he moved slowly to track her every move.

The red and yellow flashes of light reflected on Sana's pale flesh, making her brilliantly blue eyes glow against the warm flickering light. It wasn't until her eyes slowly moved almost with the slow turning of her head to find him that Petyr actually stood still.

“Something wrong, Lord Baelish?” Sansa asked, almost taunting the man.

“I hate when you are so formal.” Petyr admitted as he then began to move again toward the table to pour his own glass.

This time it was Sansa who's eyes followed him. Watching the light of the fire and the candles lit about the room that cast shadows and random spots of light on his complexion. He looked younger in the dim light but that vivid gray in his hair was the only sign left of his aging body. Still, even for an older man, she still found him devilishly handsome. She would never deny the attraction she felt toward him more than her other two suitors.

“Well when you've thrown such an extravagant celebration in my name and I've had to sit in front of many lords and ladies and be as proper and formal as possible, it's hard to stop.” Sansa said as she turned, leaning against the side of the fireplace so that she may face him without leaving the warmth of the fireplace.

After taking a modest drink of his wine, Petyr turned and joined Sansa at the fireplace, standing on the opposite side and he too leaned against the stonewall of the fireplace. His eyes first watching the flames flicker against the wood and the burning embers before he decided to look upon Sansa instead who was watching him intently.

“I thought you would happy, sweetling.” Petyr lifted his glass to his lips and took another drink. “Were you unhappy with your feast?”

“I enjoyed myself greatly. Thank you.” Sansa reached over and took the glass from his fingers and brought the glass to her lips. Their eyes never left one another as they were locked in a gaze. She took a small drink of the wine before letting a smile linger across her lips and placing the glass on the mantel of the fireplace. “But I would have settled for a quiet evening alone.”

“Are you upset with me?” Petyr asked, cocking his head at her comment.

“Of course not. I just meant to say that it was unexpected.” Sansa corrected herself so he would not think she were upset with him.

Stepping forward, Petyr pulled a box from his pocket and placed it on the mantel. He pushed it toward her as his eyes followed the box. “A gift.” He simply informed her.

“A gift?” She curiously remarked. Her fingers found the tiny box and took it in her grasp. “Petyr.” Sansa sighed. “You shouldn't have gotten me a gift.” Sansa glanced down at the box in her hands, not opening it yet.

“I wanted to give you something to show you my token of appreciation for giving me the opportunity to prove to you my true intentions.” Petyr paused momentarily. “And for allowing me to tell the truth,” He added.

Sansa's eyes glanced up to the lord before back down at the box where she used her thumb to gently push the box open. Her eyes widened somewhat at what she found inside. Taking her fingers of her freehand, Sansa lifted the pin from the cushion and held it up into the light of one of the candles. It was a pin etched from a precious metal and decorated with different shades of blue and green in the shape of her family's sigil.

“Petyr.” Sansa quietly gulped. Her eyes looked up and found his globes of green bearing into her. “This is absolutely magnificent.” Sansa said before placing the box on the mantle and clasping the pin in her hand.

Walking forward, without asking for permission, Sansa planted her lips on Petyr's in his surprise. This time, he held his eyes open, taken aback by her sudden gesture. But as soon as her arms were around his shoulders, his eyes slowly shut and his hands rested at her waistline.

Pulling back from the kiss slowly, Sansa looked into his eyes deeply. “I'm so happy you like it.” Petyr grinned.

“I will cherish it always.” Sansa smiled back at him.

“Good. You must. The man who made that is no longer with us.” Petyr sighed.

Sansa eyed him suspiciously.

“He died of natural causes. I did not have him killed.” Petyr said with a roll of his eyes.

“I would certainly hope so.” Sansa warned.

Placing the pin safely in the pocket of her sleeve once she had pulled away, Sansa glanced down at where she had tucked it away before her eyes found his again. Without warning, Petyr wrapped his arms around her tall, slender frame and captured her lips with his own.

Deepening the kiss, Sansa rested her hands on his shoulders. Their lips parted as they allowed their tongues to dance feverishly with one another, playing a game of back and forth between the opening of their lips. Not realizing, Petyr had slowly backed Sansa into a corner where he planted his hands on the wall beside her head instead of her waist, pressing his body against hers and into the wall behind her.

Sansa was a little shocked by the feeling of the wall suddenly against her back which caused her to break the kiss regretfully. Petyr's lips trailed down her chin, down to her jaw and leaving an invisible stream of sweet and daring kisses along the bone, grazing her flesh with his tongue teasingly until he got to her neck. Compulsion lead her to lean her head to the side, allowing him access to the soft warm skin.

Shutting her eyes, Sansa parted her lips as she began to steadily pant. The familiar butterflies riled up inside the pit of her belly and her fingertips vibrated with the pounding pulse of her heartbeat as did the rest of the pulse points of her limbs. Petyr parted his lips and nipped at the taut young skin before he wrapped his lips around a small section of her neck and sucked in eagerly, one hand going to the base of her neck and holding her in place, allowing him to tease the skin with his mouth more.

Petyr pressed his body into Sansa's, locking her into place against the wall. It knocked Sansa from the trance of his body where she placed her hands on his chest and pushed gently. It was a feeling the older gentleman was woefully all too familiar with. It triggered a seldom sigh from his lips as he pulled back and their eyes met immediately.

“I can't.” Sansa regretfully said to him.

“I know.” Petyr breathed out, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I'm just not ready, Petyr.” Sansa whispered, so close that he could feel her words on his lips.

“I know.” Petyr moved his lips to her forehead where they lingered in a loving kiss on her forehead. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. His hand that rested on the back of her neck found her jawline and he cupped it in his palm, allowing his thumb to stroke her precious skin. “I love you, Sansa.” Petyr admitted.

Sansa's eyes grew twice the size at his words, her brows arching visibly. She couldn't hold the shock from her face as her mind tried it's best to register the words that he said to her. She knew he felt strongly for her, and once offered to take her hand in marriage but never had she heard him utter such words.

“Say something.” Petyr sighed.

“I need to go.” Sansa quickly mumbled. She pushed him away from her and turned to walk out when his hand caught her. She turned her head back to look at him. “Let me go.” Sansa warned.

“Please, don't go.” Petyr begged.

“Just let me go. I need to be alone.” Sansa yanked her arm from his grasp. Quickly, she picked her skirt up in her hands and hurried out of the room, allowing it to slam shut behind her leaving Petyr standing there with a look of remorse on his face as he had stuck his foot in his mouth.


	8. Fragile

 

* * *

 Chapter Eight – Fragile

* * *

_'I love you, Sansa.'_ The words spread like wildfire in her consciousness. It sent a shiver up and down Sansa's spine as they echoed in her memory. Playing over and over again like song she couldn't seem to stop singing. It was something that she continued to think deeply about, often catching her in time when it was least appropriate. She would catch herself staring off into nothingness and just thinking of what _could_ happen if she were to admit that she loved him. Of course she didn't want to admit that to herself.

“Queen Sansa.” The voice off to the side caught her off guard as she had been day dreaming yet again.

Sansa turned her head from looking nowhere in particular to Tirius who stood alongside Rayner and a few of her other most trusted men. They were discussing matters of the North. Even from far away, they still needed their Queen. Scrolls had been coming in frequently about issues in the North.

Someone had set a fire in the academy. It didn't burn it to the ground but it did cause a section of the building to become dangerous and unusable. Not to mention, there was a raven that had come in from a family who lived further north, deep into the mount terrain that Sansa had invited to join them in Winterfell who were finally sending word back. These were among other matters that were needing tending to.

“Perhaps your grace would like to retire for a nap?” Rayner offered. Sansa seemed so out of it the last two days and it grew worry in him.

“I am fine.” Sansa gave a slight smile. “Please, continue. Rayner, I need water please.” Sansa licked the inside of her mouth, feeling how dry and barren it seemed.

Rayner nodded his head and turned to one of the men behind him to go fetch their Queen water. They continued to discuss these matters. Sansa still didn't pay as much attention to them as she should have. His words and her thoughts of him were still clouding her judgment. This time, she did her best to care more for the matters at hand and not him.

Once the water had been delivered, Sansa took a deep drink of it as she continued to listen. She could hear footsteps in the distance when her eyes caught sight of Tyrion, coming down the hall to the far left side of the room. He looked dressed in the normal black attire, his hair not so wild and messy as it once was. Far more tamed than she remembered it being. Suddenly she could see the age on his face and he looked very tired.

“Queen Sansa.” Tyrion bowed after approaching the space alongside Rayner and Tirius. “A word, if I may?” Tyrion asked the Queen.

“Of course.” Sansa nodded her head. “Rayner, please escort Tirius and the others out. I must also remind you that I will not be training with you this evening.”

Rayner regretfully nodded his head, not wishing to protest her decision to once again, cancel their training session for the second time this week. Instead he obeyed her order like the loyal guard that he was and turned to escort Tirius and the other men out of the room. It left Sansa and Tyrion in the room alone.

“Might we make this quite quick? I have somewhere to be within the hour.” Sansa's mood had grown slightly sour. Of course it didn't help that she wasn't someone who liked to lounge in a seat all day and her rear was starting to grow quite sore from sitting on the hard wooden chair for the last hour.

“I wanted to speak to you about Petyr.” Tyrion walked closer to her, approaching the table that divided them.

“What about Lord Baelish?” Sansa questioned him immediately. Her tone neared defensive but kept it from going quite that far.

“I have noticed that he is sending out quite a few ravens as of late. Should we be worried that he is orchestrating something dangerous?” Tyrion asked while leaning on the table on his elbows.

Narrowing her eyes, Sansa shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not sure. Why are you asking me and not him? I am not Lord Baelish's keeper, Lord Tyrion.” Sansa's tone edged annoyance.

“You have been spotted quite frequently with Petyr Baelish in the last week. I thought maybe you knew something.” Tyrion's voice was full of curiosity but Sansa could hear the underlining tone of sarcasm.

Sansa rolled her eyes as she could keep the irritation from her face no longer, “If there is something you wish to say to me, then say it. If only it is about me. When it comes to others, Lord Tyrion, I suggest you take it up with them. If Petyr Baelish is planning anything, I know nothing of it.”

“Are you sure, your grace? You seem quite withdrawn lately. Has he bothered you in any way?” Tyrion wondered aloud.

“So what if I am withdrawn? Arya's arrival day nears. I simply wonder about that day.” Sansa blatantly lied to Tyrion. She didn't wish to discuss Petyr Baelish with Tyrion Lannister of all people.

“Very well.” Tyrion let out a sigh and leaned back from the table to stand up straight. “I just can't help but feel as though something is very wrong, Sansa.” Tyrion said, dropping the proper titles. “We may not have been married long but I feel that I might have a very good understanding of when something is wrong and you have surely not been yourself as of late. I merely worry for the North as I watch you become more detached every day.”

Sansa placed her hands on the arms of the chair and slowly stood, her eyes never leaving Tyrion. “The North is not your concern, Tyrion. You have done quite well ensuring that.”

Tyrion senses a slight bitterness in her voice as she commented to him about the North.

“Sansa,” Tyrion said as he rounded the table and followed her the moment she turned to walk out. It stopped her and she turned to look down at him. “I am not sure what I have done to make you dislike me in the past few weeks. If it is my opinion on Petyr Baelish, then you must understand the history I have with that man. However if I have done something to upset you, I apologize greatly.” Tyrion stopped only feet from the young Queen.

Looking down into his pretty green eyes, Sansa sighed. She could see the discomfort and sadness in his eyes. Immediately she felt guilt. Rayner was already giving her the same look every time she demanded something emptily from him and now this. Tyrion too. There again, she felt the tugging of her heart strings as guilt filled her.

“I am sorry, Tyrion.” Sansa remarked quietly. “I feel stress. Every day. It isn't something that ever subsides.” Sansa wanted to tell him that she had feelings for him, Petyr and Rayner and couldn't seem to decide if either one were right for her but she kept that part to herself. “Arya shall arrive soon and that doesn't seem to ease or calm my mind either.”

“Back in Winterfell it seemed as though there could be a chance to repair our once decent marriage.” Tyrion came out completely. “I do not mean to add any sort of stress but I just can't help but feel like there was certainly something there between us beyond the wine.”

Her eyes grew a little in size as Sansa listened to him. There is was. Guilt. Rushing over her like a waterfall rushing over rocks. She was right. He was feeling bitter about that. He may not have come out and said it right away but she had gotten his hopes up... within reason... at least in her mind. She did have feelings for him but her heart pulled her in different directions which made things harder.

“You weren't wrong.” Sansa admitted. Her hands found one another as they met just at her midsection at the front of her waist. “There was something. However, there are more important matters at hand right now that I have chosen to leave such feelings in the wind for the moment.”

A small smile appeared on Tyrion's lips as he watched her speak. That was all he needed. Hope. There was hope after all. His heart swelled as he stood there, his eyes circling around her frame in awe. There was a new blistering of feelings that expanded inside of him. It gave him a new found enjoyment as he listened to her words slip from her throat.

“Then perhaps once the dust has settled, we will revisit this subject.” Tyrion said. Their eyes locked and Tyrion couldn't help but smile a little bigger. “Thank you, Sansa.”

Sansa smiled down at Tyrion. His nature was so gentle. She could hardly ever believe that he was known as a whoremonger. Still, even if he was at one point, that had long since faded and left him to be a man who was full of heart.

* * *

Tossing and turning in her bed, Sansa sat up with a frustrated sigh. She pushed back the plush material of her comforter and threw her legs over the side of her bed. Her head had been swarming all day and all evening. She couldn't sleep and it was well past midnight. The moon was at it's peak and she still hadn't been able to fall asleep.

Pushing her feet into the slippers alongside her bed, she reached over to grab the candle she had blew out before reigniting it. She then stood, leaving the candle on the bedside table and grabbed her robe. Sansa pulled it tight around her body and took a deep breath as she grabbed her candle and turned to walk out of her room.

Passing down the halls as she wandered, Sansa found the door she had been looking for and gave a tug hard enough to test the lock without pulling it open completely. To her surprise it was unlocked. So Sansa pulled the door open completely and as quietly as she possibly could.

Once entering through the doorway, she shut and bolted the door behind her securely. Sansa turned around and she could see the figure barely laying in the bed. His body dwarfed by the lavish bed, fit for a king that he lay in the middle of. A breath was caught in her throat as she stood there, watching and wondering if what she was doing was right. But what had she done that was so wrong?

Making her way over to the bed, Sansa blew the candle out and removed her robe before pulling back the blanket on his bed and climbed in next to him. The immediately shifting of the bed caused him to stir and open his eyes in the darkness. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes so he could adjust to the dark room before he realized what was happening.

“Sansa?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“Don't speak.” Sansa ordered. “Just don't.” Sansa didn't want to hear a protest. She didn't want to hear words. She just wanted him.

Wrapping her arms around his neck immediately, Sansa pulled him toward her to which she met no resistance from him. Tyrion placed his hand on her cheek as their lips connected. He was beyond shocked to find her in his bed. Not only in his bed but wanting more than a night time leisurely cuddle. No, the Queen clearly wanted more.

Deepening the kiss as their lips parted, Tyrion wasted no time in pressing his body against hers. Her hands moved down to find the hem of his shirt and pulled it from the pants that he had worn to bed. The taste of wine still lingered on his lips, Sansa noted through the kiss. At the same time, her hands found the skin of his back beneath his shirt. He felt different than she had expected.

One of the things that made Sansa the most reluctant to allow Tyrion into her bed was that he was small and tiny. He wasn't proportioned like a normal sized man and she was a tall woman. She didn't know exactly how this would work. She didn't want to embarrass him or herself either. If this was going to happen she wanted to enjoy herself and wanted him to as well. She didn't want things to be awkward or to get their hopes of enjoyment up to only see it end in disappointment.

Tyrion's body from what she could feel felt more normal than she had anticipated. Other than the fact that his legs didn't entwine with hers like when she had lain with a normal sized man. His back was still quite broad and she could feel the familiar resemblance of scars under her fingertips.

Moving to a more comfortable spot, Tyrion moved so that he could lay over Sansa's body now. His knees between her now parted thighs which made it so that she had to curl slightly so that she could kiss him still. Meanwhile Tyrion's hands reached down to bunch her nightgown up around her waist. His fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh and as he neared the heat of her womanhood, he halted.

Instinct was to stop and pull up. However, Sansa's demand to not speak made Tyrion not do what instinct had told him to do. Especially for the idea that she might get up and leave as she had always done, leaving him alone and never allowing him to actually fulfill the act of coitus.

Instead, Tyrion trailed his lips down Sansa's chin, down her neck and down to her chest where her nightgown's neckline plunged down between her breasts. One hand was brought up to push the material of her dress to the side so he could lean in and capture one of her sensitive peaks between his lips tenderly.

A moan sounded out from her throat. It broke the silence like a knife through butter. Arching her back ever so slightly, Tyrion continued. His tongue swirled around the swollen bud and his teeth just barely grazed the flesh of her areola. Another and another followed by another. Tyrion was left fascinated by the harmonious sounds that strung out from her as if she were a musical instrument that he played with his body.

Meanwhile, Tyrion's other hand had slid just to the skin above her sex, stroking the area with his fingers gently. He was careful and strategic with both his lips and his fingers. He didn't want her to want him to stop. So he was cautious with each calculated motion that he made.

The moment his hand at her breast moved to push her other sweet mountain peak free, Tyrion took the opportunity to slip the fingers of his other hand down between her crevice. Her voice cracked as she moaned louder. It caused her body to twitch beneath his tiny frame. It almost felt like her legs parted wider for him but he wasn't sure of it.

Gasping as his fingers invaded the opening of her silky entrance, Sansa was met with another rationalization of shock; his fingers felt just as normal as another man's had. His size and stature were truly proving to be a worry that she really had overreacted upon. It didn't matter that she felt taller or bigger and it really didn't matter that he wasn't as tall as anyone else. In the heated moment that they laid there together, he felt just as big as the rest and it clearly didn't matter.

Tyrion pulled back from her breast while moving his fingers in and out of the depths of her sex slowly, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion. He wanted to ready her for him. He didn't want to force himself into her and tear at her walls. He wanted to show her that he was gentle and not some whoremonger that was going to savagely take her at her late husband Ramsay had done.

Moving over to the other breast, Tyrion continued to listen to her song. The one she created each time she whimpered in his ear. Her hips began to roll into his hand at the same time, making his fingers go deeper with each roll of her hip and pushing of his digit. She was ready.

It only took a few swift seconds and a few quick movements before Tyrion was free of his pants. He didn't want to waste time in bothering with her shift so instead, he continued to bunch the material of the skirt around her waist and placed his hands at her hips.

Using what force he could muster, Tyrion pulled Sansa down so that her bottom pressed against his tiny thighs. He took himself in his hand and stroked a few times to ensure the length of him was full. Of course the aching in his manhood was a tall tale sign that even he indeed was more than ready to take this Queen in his bed. A dream was coming true and he wanted to savor it.

Looking over her body in the darkness he could still make out the reflection of her pale skin. It was glowing in the stark contrast to the darkness, lighting up the parts of her body he found even more beautiful than the rest.

Their eyes connected in the darkness. Sansa gripped the pillow under her head and laid back, waiting for the initial entry. Tyrion took the hint and aimed himself at her opening just before pressing the tip of himself against her silky folds. With ease, he slowly slid inside of her, her walls squeezed his member, giving some resistance to the slow and steady thrust.

Both Sansa and Tyrion let out two very different noises. Tyrion a grunt and Sansa a whimper. This had become the most surprising fact. He was bigger than the two men she had been with previously. Ramsay and Rayner were not quite as gifted as Tyrion. Well that right there was her answer on how he could have been known as a whoremonger. The women must have enjoyed him greatly.

His hips met hers and Tyrion held himself inside of her. His hands resting on either side of her body and his face close to hers as he leaned forward. Sansa planted her feet on the surface of the bed, her heels digging in lightly to prepare herself for the thrusts that he would soon deliver to her body.

Tyrion waited just a little longer, enjoying the feeling of her wrapped around him so intimately. Then, when he had felt like it had been long enough, Tyrion pulled out of her womanhood almost all of the way before bringing himself back into her in one clean thrust.

Each time the length of him was buried inside of her completely, Sansa cried out, unable to hold back the noises that gave her pleasured feelings away. Her hands gripped at the pillow beneath her head and her back arched in response. Her eyes shut and her teeth ground into her bottom lip, biting hard as she tried to quiet herself however each time he pushed into her, her body erupted in tiny little quakes and she wanted more.

It wasn't long before Tyrion found a rhythm of thrusts to give Sansa the most amount of pleasure he could deliver to her. Sansa responded with her mews and cries. Tyrion moved himself down and captured one of her exposed breasts between his lips once again. More moans escaped her lips. His hands moved to grip the outside of her thighs, almost forcing her to move with him in unison.

Sansa's hands had been gripping at the pillow beneath her head but the moment he bent forward to take her breasts in his mouth, her hands came down and gripped at his shoulders. She cried for more. She moaned in response. Her body arched and moved along with Tyrion. Even with his tiny stature, he was giving her a night she would truly never forget. Especially giving the realization that even at his height, he was truly a master with this gift of pleasure.

Rocking back and forth in and out of her core, Petyr could feel himself swelling. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want the feeling to cease. It was the most wonderful of pleasurable feelings he had ever felt in his life. Queen Sansa Stark lay beneath him, shaking and shuddering at his ministrations. It was the greatest gift she could have given him in that moment. Her cries filled all of the space in the room and his little grunts and moans tried to fit in along with them.

Suddenly as her belly coiled and her thighs begun to shake, Sansa's climax tore through her body, “Tyrion...” Sansa cried out, her fingers gripping his shoulders so hard in her hands, her nails digging into the upper sides of his back.

The feeling of her flooding his manhood and her walls tightening around him, Tyrion's climax wasn't far behind. Speeding up his thrusts so that he could introduce his climax, Tyrion sat up fully just at the moment that he peaked. His hands gripped her thighs in his grasp and he pushed into her completely, his seed coating her insides and filling her with each warm shot.

Tyrion was spent. He rolled off of the Queen reluctantly and sprawled out beside her. Both were left panting and gasping for air from their act. Sansa's thighs shuddered still as she lowered them to lay flat against the bed.

Without another word, Sansa rolled onto her side and curled up into the crook of his arm. She placed her head against his shoulder and her hand rested on the area in the middle of his chest. Tyrion took her hand in his and brought it to his lips where he kissed the back of it softly before keeping it wrapped in his own hand and laying both his and her hands on his chest.

Tyrion didn't care if she slept in his bed and neither did Sansa. They would deal with that tomorrow. Besides, the chances of anyone finding out that she visited his bed that night were slim. Tomorrow was the feast in honor of Bran's name day and everyone would be busy readying for the celebration. No one would be visiting their chambers until the afternoon and neither were too tired to care in that moment.


	9. Falling

 

* * *

 Chapter Nine – Falling

* * *

Walking through the most back hidden hallways, Sansa made her way to her chambers. The palace was still quiet and very few could be heard. Especially when she took the long way to her rooms. The back stairs that lead her outside and onto a balcony and back inside through a hidden hallway that few knew of. Something she had discovered while she was a captive of the Lannisters. She found many secret passageways she thought were long forgotten.

Making her way through the halls, slivers of early morning light came in through the windows and doors. It was what lit her way to ensure her a safe passage back to her quarters. Her footing was careful as she stepped on the uneven hidden staircase that was stuck between the outer wall of the palace and a hallway on the other side. The stairs had not been used and were beginning to crumble from lack of upkeep.

Finally getting to the top, she made it through another room and then cross into a hallway which would eventually lead her outside onto another balcony. She stopped just inside the hallway as she listened to two maids chat as they walked out of the hallway door on the other side and into another door just short of where Sansa had been standing inside. Once she heard the door close firmly behind them, she tugged her robe around her tighter and made her way outside of the hall and onto the balcony, her eyes kept to the ground.

It wasn't long now that Sansa had made her way to the back hallway that would lead to the door of her solar. She looked around and listened closely to ensure she wouldn't be caught in her robe outside of her chambers. Once she knew it was safe, she hurried, almost running to her door. She swung the heavy door open and allowed it to slam behind her. She took a deep breath and let her back rest against the door behind her now.

Sansa couldn't believe she had allowed herself to be so weak. Bedding another man. Of course it was a man she was once betrothed to, but it still wasn't proper. Twice now since she had been in Kings Landing had she allowed such an act come to light. She needed to stop herself. She couldn't let it happen again. Not when there were too many eyes and ears that would gladly tarnish her reputation.

Sighing heavily, Sansa pushed herself off of the door and headed for the room that held her bath. Just a few more hours of sleep and Hilda would come for her, offering a bath which she will gladly take. Her body was sticky from sweat and between her thighs were still slightly moist from her enjoyment she had shared with Tyrion. But for now, sleep would do just fine.

* * *

“To the King! Long may he reign!” The crowed cheered in the midst of yet another celebration. This time, for King Bran Stark. It brought joy and delight to Sansa to see her brother celebrated. Once he was just little Bran Stark, the climber. Now he was King Bran Stark, The Raven. It was quite an honor just to think that she was his big sister. Many would have been thankful in her shoes, just as thankful as she were that her family had come out on top through the last eleven years.

She was merely thirteen when it started. When her whole life was turned upside down. Now a woman of twenty-four years old Sansa had been through more than most young girls would go through in a life time. Especially that of a simpleton. The only thing that was truly missing in her life was a husband and a child. A king to sit beside her on her throne and a child to carry on their legacy. Which she was still reluctant to fulfill.

Lifting her glass along with the others, Sansa grinned and watched as the men and women put on their beautiful performance. A woman and a man stood in the center of the garden where they had chosen to host his party. The man and woman belted out a beautiful song about Bran while a few young boys played their musical instruments beside them. It brought a tear to her eye. Her mother and father would be ever so proud of them if they were still alive.

As the song played through the room, her eyes wandered as she looked around, unable to keep her attention on the beautiful music. Outwardly, she smiled and enjoyed such beautiful singing but inside her mind wandered as her eyes had. First glancing over at Rayner in the far corner of the garden, standing and waiting for any new command. He had been feeling ill and she had insisted that he stay in bed but he refused his Queen and wanted to join the celebration. Such a fine and gallant man.

Sansa's eyes then shifted across the garden in the opposite direction where Tyrion sat among the others of Bran's most trusted councilmen. He watched the musicians and the singers play in unison to one another with a smile written across his face. Gleefully, he took a drink of his wine and moved his head along with the music. He was much more silly and fun compared to the other two men. It was something she admired about him the most.

Then as she brought her eyes over to another area of the garden when her eyes met with a cloudy haze of green. Staring at her as she stared back, Petyr watched her, a look on his face that she hadn't seen before. It sent a chill down her spine and she quickly looked away and back at the musicians. Had he been watching her the whole time? She wondered if it were just a coincidence that he had glanced at her at the same time as she glanced at him or if it had been something she had been blind to.

Once the song ended and the music stopped, everyone clapped which brought Sansa's attention directly back onto the musicians. She smiled and clapped along with the others. She hoped Bran hadn't noticed and from what she could tell, he was far too engulfed in awe at the musicians. It made Sansa's smile all the more genuine as she watched at how happy her young brother was.

“Will you excuse me, Bran? I need a moment.” Sansa leaned over and whispered quietly in her brother's ear as she decided to step out.

“Of course. Is everything alright?” Bran asked, turning his attention to Sansa.

“Yes, of course. Continue your show.” Sansa grinned as she stood and walked away from the garden and down a familiar path.

It wasn't until she got to an area outside of the still very alive godswood that she realized she was being followed.

“Why did I have a feeling that you would follow?” Sansa asked, not bothering to turn around.

“I can't believe how blind I've been.” Petyr sneered.

Sansa turned her head along with her body quickly at his words. Any resemblance of happiness had drained from her face. “Excuse me?”

“Tyrion Lannister.” Petyr simply said as he approached her. “I didn't believe it when I had heard.”

“Heard what?” Sansa questioned. She could feel the tightness in her chest and the anxiety rise in her body as her heart began to pound.

“One of my servants had said Tyrion's servants had saw you leaving his room early this morning. By the looks of the smile on his face, it seems you did quite a good job.” Petyr's words burned like fire in Sansa chest as he was unable to help from saying them.

Reaching back, Sansa's hand fell quick and hard across Petyr's cheek, delivering with a loud smack across his skin. Immediately the string could be felt as it radiated from his cheek to her hand. She almost couldn't believe she had struck him just as quickly as she delivered the blow. Slowly, she brought her hand away from him let it hand at her side.

“How... Dare you.” Sansa said between gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing at Petyr.

“I guess I deserve that.” Petyr said before spitting off to the side to clear his mouth of the blood that had been procured by his teeth jamming into the inside of his cheek. Red stained his bottom lip momentarily. He used his tongue to lap up the metallic tasting fluid.

“You have no right!” Sansa shouted at him. “You judge me and yet you expect me not to judge just the same. A man with whorehouses is just fine.” Sansa stood close to him, almost daring him to hit her in return. “A man who lies and deceives in just great. But let a woman do the same and they'd call her a traitor and a whore.” Sansa spat. She looked down on him momentarily before backing away a few steps.

“How many times have you visited his quarters? How many times have you allowed him the gift of touching your flesh while you allowed me to entertain your thoughts?” Petyr dared with his words.

“That is none of your business.” Sansa growled.

“Really? None of my business? I guess you're right, your grace. I haven't gotten on my hands and knees and begged for your forgiveness or asked you to marry me so therefore it is none of my business.” Petyr shrugged, his demeanor still calm and collected.

“I don't need to listen to this.” Sansa turned to walk away and Petyr grabbed her arm. “Let go of me!” Sansa shouted and pulled her arm away.

“I suggest you allow the Queen to go on her way.” Rayner's voice came from behind them.

“Oh good, the Queen pet's.” Petyr let go of Sansa's arm and stepped back as Rayner moved forward, advancing toward Sansa. “I'm sure he's seen your bed once or twice as well the way he follows you around like a dog.” Petyr jabbed.

Sansa's eyes narrowed and she went to attack Petyr but Rayner grabbed a hold of Sansa and held her back tightly in his hands.

“You are not the man I thought you were, Petyr Baelish!” Sansa shouted in anger as tears welled up in her eyes from the pure frustration.

“What is going on?” Tyrion's voice came from the opposite end of the path that they had been standing in.

“Oh and the imp is here to help whisk you away.” Petyr clapped his hands together and stepped back further. “By all means, Lord Tyrion. She's all yours.”

“What is he speaking of?” Tyrion asked, confused as he approached Rayner who still had Sansa hard in his grasp.

“Someone saw me leave your chamber this morning.” Sansa admitted through gritted teeth.

Suddenly Rayner's grip loosened on Sansa's arms and he stepped back. Immediate gilt welled up when she could feel the shock radiate from Rayner without needing to look at his face.

“The dwarf, Sansa? A Lannister?” Rayner asked in disbelief.

“Oh this is rich.” Petyr mumbled and rolled his eyes, realizing that his words were far more true than he had expected.

Sansa turned to look at Rayner, “It's not what you think.” She said calmly.

“It wasn't?” Tyrion asked in shock.

Sansa turned her head and look at him, “It was... but... it wasn't...” She was beginning to grow tongue tied as she tried to sooth the three egos around her.

“I guess I'll just walk away. I know where we stand in the matter.” Petyr adjusted the gloves on his hands and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Sansa turned and looked at him before throwing her hands up in the air. “Yes! Ok! Yes! I allowed Rayner into my bed and I sought out Tyrion's company yesterday evening, ok? It that what you wanted to hear?” Sansa growled as tears brimmed her eyes. She held them back from falling down her cheeks. Her cheeks turned red as she held back the anger and frustration in them.

Looking up at the sky, Sansa closed her eyes to allow herself a moment to take a deep breath. “I am confused.” She admitted between them.

“Are you in love with them?” Petyr asked, demanding an answer.

“I don't know.” Sansa admitted as she brought her head back down and opened her eyes as fresh tears littered her cheeks.

“Do you love me?” Petyr asked, his voice slightly softer.

“I don't know.” Sansa answered.

“Then I guess our _Queen_ has a decision to make.” Petyr stated.

“This isn't fair.” Sansa quietly spoke this time.

“No what isn't fair is making the three of us believe each of us were in the running for your bed. Well at least they got to enjoy your flesh. I'm not sure where I fall into place now.” Petyr crossed his arms over his chest, eyes switched between Rayner, Sansa and Tyrion.

“It's different with them.” Sansa tried to explain.

“Different how?” Tyrion suddenly quipped from behind her.

Turning her head to glance at him, Sansa sighed. “We were married once. It didn't seem wrong.” She admitted.

“Then what about me?” Rayner asked from the other side.

Sansa cranked her head around to look over at him. “You are my guard and my most loyal friend. It just.. it just felt right.”

“And me?” Petyr's voice came from in front of her.

Sansa sniffled and slowly looked back at him. “You lied to me. You disappeared. You made me believe you were dead. You made me hate you so much. How do you expect me to just turn that off? How do you expect me just to forget everything that has happened?”

“I don't know but for someone who preaches the truth, I expected more from you, your grace.” Petyr sighed. “I guess it's back to the Vale for me.”

“Wait, Petyr,” Sansa reached out to touch him but he moved back.

“You made your choice.” He said.

“But I haven't.” She cried.

“They're right behind you, Sansa. I'm doing you a favor. Removing myself from the situation. One less man you need to _choose_ from.”

With that, Petyr walked away and disappeared around a corner quickly. Sansa turned around to see Rayner standing there, glaring at her as did Tyrion. “I'm sorry.” She said solemnly.

“I wish to be excused.” Rayner suddenly spoke.

“Rayner,” Sansa whimpered.

“I feel ill, your grace. I will send Leo to watch over you.” Rayner suddenly turned before Sansa had a moment to speak.

Tyrion sighed, “Had I known there was a race I may have tried a little harder.”

“Tyrion, listen please.” Sansa begged through tears.

Shaking his head, Tyrion sighed. “I believed a Stark could be... would be different. I was wrong. I think Lord Baelish was right. Perhaps it is bed to remove ones self from a situation.” Tyrion said before whisking past Sansa to go join his king at the party.

Standing in the middle of the pathway, Sansa watched as Tyrion disappeared back in the gardens. All three men had walked away, all three men had disappeared in their own paths and left Sansa alone. Hanging her head as she stood there, Sansa brought her hands to her cheeks and hid her face, letting out a sob into her hands. She couldn't believe what had just happened. What was she going to do now? How would she come back from this?


	10. I Burn In You

 

* * *

 Chapter Ten – I Burn In You

* * *

A soft knocking at Petyr's door caused him to halt his packing. His things were thrown about on his bed and the doors to his were wide open as he stood between them, pulling his things out to fold and place in his case. However, the sounds that were vibrating through the room had caught him off guard. Petyr hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to entertain any sort of company in the moment. However, curiosity had gotten the best of him as he placed the shirt in his hands down on the bed and walked over to the door.

Placing his hand on the knob, he hesitated. Taking a deep breath, Petyr pulled the door open only to reveal the tall red haired Queen standing on the other side. His green eyes met with her blue eyes which looked even brighter, glowing almost against the contrast of her red rims. Her face was swollen, streaks covered her face and her little nose looked puffier than usual, her lips pursed together were red around their edges and a tad swollen as well. She had been crying.

“Sansa.” Petyr said quietly.

“May I come in?” Sansa asked, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Just the sound of the hurt in her voice made Petyr's heart ache. He knew he had helped to cause such pain and it ripped him to shreds but he had to remind himself that she had mainly been the one to do it to herself.

Stepping aside, Petyr put his hand out to gesture for her to come in. “Have a seat.” Petyr's voice was flat, trying not to give away any hint of the sadness and anger that ripped through him.

Picking up the skirt of the dark green dress and entering into the dimly lit room, Sansa had went to the nearest seat, a chaise that sat between the fireplace and the door. She slowly took a seat and rested her hands in her lap. She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. She didn't want to be reminded of the indecision in her heart that had caused the pain that coursed through his veins.

“I believe I made things very clear, your grace.” Petyr's voice came first. It was toneless and short.

Just the lack of care in his voice made Sansa choke back a sob as she shrugged her shoulders forward, placing a hand over her lips to muffle the cry. She had practiced this back in her room numerous times over the past two days but she found herself simply sobbing each and every time. Here she was, doing exactly what she had tried hard not to.

Gathering herself, Sansa sniffled and flicked the tears away from her cheeks. She took a deep and wavering breath as she turned her head up to look at Petyr who was still standing by the door to her left. He didn't look at her now. His gaze was cast over at fireplace, the shadows of the flames danced on his face which made him look even more grim now.

“When do you plan to leave?” Sansa asked, her voice continuing to break with each syllable.

“In the morning just before sunrise.” Petyr admitted, still not turning his head to look at her.

“What about Bran? What about Arya?” Sansa ventured further with questions.

Taking a deep breath, Petyr crossed to the center of the room and took a seat across from Sansa, his chair positioned toward the fireplace. “I leave my men. I'm only going with a handful of men to escort me back to the Vale and then they shall return here without me. Should take no longer than a week.”

For the first time since she sat down, Petyr turned his head and looked across the space between them to look at Sansa. Tears had been silently falling down her red cheeks. She looked exhausted, as though she hadn't slept in days. Her hair was messy and not so kept as she had always been known to do. Pieces stuck out here and there to look wilder and untamed.

“You should be asleep.” Petyr commented.

“I can't.” She whispered loud enough for him to hear.

“You have ways to find comfort, Sansa. You can not convince me otherwise.” Petyr sat back, resting his chin between his thumb and first finger with his elbow resting on the arm of his chair.

Rolling her eyes, “Not after what happened.” Sansa grabbed the handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and wiped her nose with it. She sniffled and flicked more tears from her face. The feeling of the material on her skin only irritated her nose and cheeks further, leaving red splotches in it's wake.

“With good reason.” Petyr sighed.

“I need to explain what happened.” Sansa whimpered as a fresh set of tears threatened to fall. “Please.” Her eyes burned as she tried to hold back her tears, her blue pools begging him to listen.

“What is there left to say?” Petyr asked with a shrug of his shoulders. “You've made a fool of us. Not just me, Sansa. Tyrion and Rayner too. How did you expect this to end?” Petyr sat forward, gripping the arms of his chair with his hands. “Did you think you were going to live the rest of your life entertaining all three of us and live happily ever after?” Petyr pushed further.

“No. That is not what I thought.” Those tears that she had tried so hard to keep from falling has escaped her power and cascaded down like rain on her flesh. “If you let me explain, you might understand.” Sansa insisted.

“Then explain.” Petyr simply growled, his first of emotion flashing in his voice.

“When I became Queen of the North, I had no intentions of getting married or having children or so much as being that sort of Queen. I however have been pushed and pushed to find a husband and make children just like any other rightful Queen should. Rayner became more than just my royal guard. He listened to me express my thoughts. He didn't judge me. He didn't make me feel like I was being a bad Queen by choosing to stay unmarried and unhinged.” Sansa began, sniffling and wiping her nose a second time. The material burned like fire against her skin still.

“So you bed him?” Petyr asked.

“No. I never meant to. I went to him and asked him to train me in combat. I wanted to be completely independent so that I may not need an escort everywhere I went. I wanted to have the ability to care for myself, to fend for myself. He began training me. One thing led to another and it happened once. Then twice.” Sansa wiped her eyes as she looked away from Petyr. “Next thing I knew it was multiple times in a month.” Sans sighed. “I realized I was using him for comfort. When I was angry. When I was sad. When I was stressed. He was always there.”

Petyr could hear the sincerity in her voice and this time, he kept quiet, allowing her to continue with her story.

“I never loved him.” Sansa cried, covering her face with her handkerchief. “I thought about it, I still do. It's not that I love him. It is that he is there to comfort me. He was the first person after Ramsay who helped me explore that part of me and it didn't hurt. There's a bond there and I haven't been able to deny that.” Sansa pulled the cloth away from her face and looked over at Petyr. “Then I found out you were alive.”

Looking up at the ceiling of the room, Sansa sighed, letting out a huff of air and shaking her head. “I couldn't believe all of those scrolls. I was so angry. Unbelievably angry. I wanted to kill you with my bear hands.” Sansa turned her head down to look at him. “But there was a part in my heart that ached that here all of this time I had believed you were the source of my pain and none of that was true. I felt guilt for not seeing through everything and I put the pieces together with your scrolls. I realized how blind I was and then I became excited that I might get the chance to hear this all from your lips.”

Pausing, Sansa stood up and walked over to the fireplace to warm frigid body. She pulled her cloak around her as the chill of the spring evening caught her off guard. She noted that he needed to shut his windows but kept those words to herself.

“That doesn't explain Tyrion.” Petyr spoke in the sudden silence.

Sansa nodded her head and didn't look at him, her eyes staying connected with the fire. “When Joffrey married me to Tyrion, I was disgusted and upset. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to. At first I wanted to run and escape. However, there was a softness to Tyrion. He was kind and had become the only person I trusted while I was here.” Sansa sighed, pressing the cloth to the corners of her eyes to keep tears from falling.

“When I left, I felt guilt. I felt like at the very least, maybe I should have allowed him in my bed. He was a decent husband.” Sansa took another shaky deep breath and turned to look at Petyr. “One day Tyrion came to visit Winterfell and told me of Bran's visions and about Arya. She told me how he wanted my help and to come here. That night I almost allowed him in my bed but he refused. I was a little hurt because I thought that was what he wanted and I thought that was what I wanted. We were man and wife once and it seemed like it was only right.”

“But you're no longer man and wife, Sansa. You never consummated your marriage to Tyrion.” Petyr sighed.

“I know.” Sansa said. “When I came here to Kings Landing again, old feelings resurfaced for Tyrion. He was still so kind and gentle. Then you came.” Sansa shook her head and looked down at her hands that fidgeted with the handkerchief. “You two were at each others throats and I wanted you both to quit it. I wanted you both to calm down and so I did things to keep you two apart. I spent more time with you. Then the other night...” Sansa looked up into Petyr's eyes. “I don't know what came over me. I couldn't sleep and I sought him out. But afterwards, I realized it wasn't what I wanted.”

“Well by look on his face, it didn't seem that way.” Petyr smirked.

Sansa turned her body completely to face Petyr. “No matter how Tyrion feels or what he felt, after that night, I felt like he wasn't the one I wanted to be with.”

“So you were hoping to try me out next to see if I were a better lay?” Petyr smirked once again and stood. “That's great.” Petyr commented sarcastically.

“That's not what I meant. I just don't feel the same way about them that I feel about you. I'll never deny what I have with you. They are wonderful men but I think I've known all along, it's you I want to be with, Petyr.”

Walking toward Petyr, Sansa placed her hands in his and looked into his eyes. “It's not that simple now, Sansa. You can't just come in here and tell someone you want to be with them after you've done something like this.”

“I know that.” Sansa gripped his hands in hers. “But I want you to know that I want to make that up to you. I want to show you that it is you that I want to be with. It is you that I love.”

Hearing her utter that word, _love_ , had sent a shiver through him. It was quite silly to think that just weeks ago the tables were turned and it were he vying for her affection. Now it seemed quite the opposite. Funny how things seemed to play out. Petyr was a strong believer that everyone's luck runs out and one day what you've done to others will come back to you. Perhaps this was the worlds way of punishing her. Thinking about things in that sort of perspective made Petyr feel slightly different than he did before.

Pulling his hands free from her grasp made a look of fear cross over Sansa's complexion but it was only so that Petyr could wrap his arms around the Queen's waist and pull her into an embrace. Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and pulled him close, hugging her body tight against his. Petyr rested his cheek against the side of her head. One hand pressed against her lower back and the other stroked the long red tresses of her hair.

He could hear her little mews, feel the wetness of her tears soak through the material of his undershirt, see the way her body trembled in his arms. Petyr had only seen Sansa like this once before and that was after the death of her family members. It burned deep in his soul to know she ached. Instinct was kicking in no matter how upset he was with her, no matter what she had done. Sansa had done something to Petyr that made it almost impossible for him to stay so angry with her.

“Shh.” Petyr whispered quietly. “Don't cry, sweetling.” His tone had grown soft and gentle.

Petyr hated coming to the realization of things. This would be their relationship. This would happen often. He would upset her or she him. From there, they would play games of cat and mouse with one another. There was something that told him that Sansa Stark would never fully be his. He lost that chance once he handed her off to Ramsay Bolton. That was the mistake he had made that he would spend the rest of his life regretting. Most likely would die feeling such regret.

“Please don't go.” Sansa cried into his neck. Her body trembled still. There was a sort of comfort Petyr provided that no one else could ever, would ever.

“I must.” Petyr sighed. “Being here is only going to confuse you further.” Still, he stroked her hair, twirling the locks of red in his fingers.

Shaking her head, Sansa pulled back and looked into his eyes. She had completely fallen apart in his arms and it showed on her face. “But I know what I want now. I know that it's you that I want.” Sansa brought her hands up to grip the undershirt in her hands, tugging on it eagerly. “Please stay. I don't know that I can do this alone.”

“You're not alone, Sansa.” Petyr placed his hands on hers as he spoke. “You have family and friends who love and care for you and will help you through every step of the way.”

Still, she shook her head again, “It's not the same. Please, Petyr. Please.” She pleaded with him.

Instead of answering her, Petyr wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for another embrace, this time, he held her tight and buried his head into her hair. He inhaled the deep scent of what he could only believe would be the smell of frost and spice. It was sweet and cold smelling. The smell of the North. Sansa's scent. Closing his eyes, he took the scent in. It made him feel warm inside, sent his own bustling butterflies swirling in the pit of his stomach.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity in those few seconds. It was hard for Petyr to let her go. It didn't feel right. Something screamed inside of him, clawed at his soul to have Sansa Stark in his warm embrace. Adding to sadness that wracked her body, it pained him not to hold her, not to sooth her with his touch. There was nothing more powerful then touching the woman you love the most and Petyr was a slave to his own needs and emotions. He was a slave to Sansa.

Cries subsided slowly, a hiccup here and there escaped her but Petyr thought it would be okay to pull back from Sansa. Looking over the young crying Queen, he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. To his surprise, Sansa nuzzled into his palm just as she let out a disgruntled hiccup from the fierce crying she had been doing. Petyr sighed quietly and when her blistering blue eyes reached his green eyes, he was caught. He couldn't look away. Even with red eyes and a swollen tear streaked face, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

Thumb brushing against her swollen lips softly, Sansa pursed her lips to softly kiss his thumb. She closed her eyes and completely pressed her cheek against his palm, allowing his touch to comfort her. Little shudders came here and there from her body trying to recover from her two days of crying. Petyr felt a stirring in his body. It made him breath a little harder, it made him stand a little straighter. She elicited such responses from him no matter how he felt. Sansa Stark was the keeper of his whole being.

Not saying a word between the two of them, Petyr took the handkerchief from Sansa's grasp and placed it on the table beside them. He then placed his fingers on the clap at the front of her dress. It held the outer part of her dress together at the front. He didn't bring his eyes up to hers this time. He didn't ask permission. He didn't want to see it. A part of his anger surfaced as he took the fabric and ripped it completely apart. Sansa gasped at the sound of the ripping fabric just as the heavy metal clasp hit the stone floor with a rattling clank.

A fear rose in Sansa. The look on Petyr's face looked as though he was deep in thought, concentrating but there was a gleam in his eye that worried her. She knew that look. She had seen it before. She couldn't figure out where in that moment but wherever she had witnessed it before, it brought fear into her chest.

The material of the dress hung open, the front of it torn. It revealed lacing of a corset beneath it. Petyr wanted to groan out loud. He hated those pesky things. He always preferred the women in the brothel not to wear them because it made the matters of undressing to be so much easier and faster. However; he was not in a brothel and this wasn't a prostitute. This was Queen Sansa Stark. There was irony in the idea that his whores wore next to nothing and that Sansa wore so much mixed with the idea that you never had to work for a whore but Petyr sure had been working hard for the woman who stood in front of him.

Petyr knew the only way he'd get her out quickly would be a knife which he didn't have handy in that moment. So he was going to have to take the care and unlace her. Painfully slow, Petyr began to unlace the corset. Starting with the top two laces first. He pulled the string and immediately dug his fingers between the laces, pulling and prodding the lace to loosen it before moving to the bottom lace. He followed the same ritual as he had done before. Once the corset was loose enough, he simply pulled hard until the lacing came out completely and allowed it to fall to the floor from his hands completely.

Beneath the corset was the skirt of her dress and her shift beneath that. It would be easy for him to remove both. Right now, his eyes feasted on the gap between her breasts that was very apparent by the opening of the gown. He lifted his fingers and stroked the soft skin between her breasts. A sharp intake of air knocked him from his trance. He thought it was her but it was actually himself. He was finally touching the soft flesh that he had longed for.

Sansa didn't move. She didn't speak a word. She tried not to make any noise at all. The only noise that could be heard in the room was the cracking of the fire in the fireplace and the movement of material as he removed it from her body. Now, his little sharp breath. Sansa looked up, concentrating on his face now. She was suddenly curious to see his reactions to her, how would he react to finally getting what she believed he wanted.

Fingers trailed down the soft warm side of her breast that peered out from behind the material. Petyr had to lick his suddenly dry lips in that moment with his breath now caught in his chest. His fingers moved down one breast and then slid over and up the other breast until he was touching the strap of her shift. He lifted both hands now to the straps and slowly pulled them down. His eyes feasted on the pink flesh beneath the top of the gown as it fell around her waist the moment he pulled the material down around her. He didn't stop however. He allowed the skirt and the rest of the dress to drop away and puddle around her feet. Sansa Stark stood completely bare in front of him.

Petyr remembered seeing her naked in the pools and she was beautiful but right now, she was a vision. He was able to clearly see her, able to feast his eyes upon the pale pink flesh that covered every inch of her. The pretty pinkness of the circles around the very tips of her breasts, the tuft of soft red curls that sat just above her womanhood.

All of it was so much to take in and immediately felt himself stiffen inside of his trousers. The strain made him swallow what little spit he had left in his mouth and finally his eyes met with hers. Her face still swollen but there was a beauty about her as her hair hung around her face, some lay over her arm and the rest pushed behind her. The vision of her was magnificent, so much so he thought that he himself might cry at the beauty.

With their eyes locked, Sansa stepped forward out of the pools of material around her feet and stepped forward, leaving her slipper in the pool of her dress. Her barefoot pressed against the cool stone floor as she stepped forward. Her eyes left his so she could find the hem of his shirt and tug it upward. Petyr allowed Sansa to pull the material up until he was pulling one arm out of the sleeve and then the other until she had tugged the shirt up off over his head. She allowed it to drop onto the floor beside them.

Leaning in, Sansa placed a small trail of kisses across his chest. Her warm swollen lips pressed against his skin, the little patches of hair on his chest tickled her lips as she connected with him. Petyr couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips at the gesture. At the same moment he felt her hands hook around the waist of his trousers and tug them down.

Much to his surprise, Sansa began to kneel as she took the material down around his legs until she sat on his knees in front of him. Petyr looked down, watching her as she helped him to step from his pants before tossing them to the side. Slowly she brought her eyes up his legs until she met with the length of his manhood. Being on her knees made her the perfect height to actually look at him.

Sansa found herself nervous suddenly as she looked at Petyr's semi-erect sex. She suddenly felt like she had no idea what she was doing and was very aware of the fact that this man used to run a brothel and she was simply a woman who had shared her bed with only three men until this point. She knew nothing of what he knew.

Petyr bent at the waist and placed his hands on her shoulders. Sansa looked up at him in confusion. “A Queen must never kneel.” With that, Petyr was pulling Sansa up, his hands under her arms to help her stand. Once she had gotten to her feet he took her hand in his and pulled her over to the chaise she had been sitting on. “Sit.” Petyr demanded quietly.

Taking his command, Sansa sat, leaning back against the back rest of the chaise. Petyr reached down and pressed his fingers over the indents on her knees from her kneeling. He stroked the area of her knees gently before he took a seat beside Sansa. He took one of her hands in his and brought it across his lap where he placed the palm of her hand over him. With his hand wrapped around hers, he moved her hand so that she was stroking him.

Their eyes locked onto one another now, Petyr let go of Sansa's hand which she still stroked him. He lifted his other hand blindly and stroked the underside of her breast before capturing the nipple between his fingers and tugging just enough not to cause any pain. Sansa's breathing immediately became uneasy and labored. Seeing the initial reaction added with the feeling of her stroking him made a little grin form on his lips.

Leaning forward for the first time, Petyr moved his hand from her breast to her neck. His palm rested against her neck to pull her into him so he could press his lips against hers. Sansa didn't resist the pull, allowing him to pull her body forward into his. She pressed her lips against his and their eyes closed together. His tongue lapped at the entrance to her mouth teasingly with the tip of his tongue. To his delight, Sansa parted her lips to allow him entry. Finding the insides of her cheeks, his tongue explored her mouth first, finding the area between her teeth and focusing on the feel of her tongue, playing a game of chase with it. They sat like this for some time before Petyr pulled back.

Sansa had almost forgotten she had been stroking him until he pulled back. The Queen took her chance and threw her leg over Petyr's lap, one hand planted on his shoulder so she could hoist herself up and over his lap to straddle his thighs. Compulsion lead Petyr to wrap his arms around the red haired woman's body and stroke the skin of her backside softly with his fingers.

Hands planted on his shoulders, knees on either side of his thighs, digging into the chaise, Petyr looked up into Sansa's eyes. In that moment something had changed in her being. Something that Petyr would miss out on if he hadn't indulged in his need for the woman who straddled his lap. Her hair fell over to one side and just as she bent to kiss him, his fingers dug into her hips eagerly, pulling her midsection toward him, pressing her hipbone into his belly. It caused her sex to hover just over the tip of his manhood which strained at the heat shared between their most delicate body parts.

Sliding one hand up her back, his palm and fingers felt the path of her skin slowly, taking his time as he reached up, his hand slipping under her hair and gripping the back of her neck with his hand firmly. He didn't pull but he did lead her lower her hips. Digging his fingers into her hip with his other hand, Petyr guided Sansa to lower her delicious folds onto the tip of him. Their bodies tenses and their lips broke apart but they stayed close.

Their eyes found one another, mouths parted, breathing shared between the two of them. Sansa lowered herself slowly down over his erection. Her body shuddered and a shiver ran up his spine. The feeling of her sinking down around him was the most glorious feeling he had ever felt in his life. Nothing felt better than the feeling of Sansa Stark's walls closing in around the length of him. She was tight, her walls resisted and created a bit of discomfort for the woman who withered in his arms.

First, a whimper from her lips. It was her first sign. Petyr used the hand that dug into her hip to stroke the flesh softy in circles, hoping to sooth her pain away. It was as if using his movements, he was telling her to be easy, to take it slow. She seemed to read the sign because she halted the lowering of her body and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath before swallowing the spit in her mouth. She didn't understand where the pain was coming from or why this was so hard. But the moment she was ready to go further, she let her body drop more and more. She made sure to stop any time she felt a twinge of pain.

The man beneath her was growing quite restless. As much as Petyr wanted Sansa to take her time, he also longed to plunge himself into her with brute force. It took all of the self-control the mockingbird could muster to refrain. He longed to feel her engulf him over and over again. He longed to watch himself disappear into her folds. He longed to watch her wither in his arms at his ministrations.

Finally, their hips met. Sansa shuddered again at the feeling of him so deep inside of her depths. Her walls hugged the length of him, pulsing already in eager as she coated him in a layer of honey. Petyr enjoyed the feeling more than anyone could ever know. There was nothing sweeter than the woman who he was buried inside of in that moment.

Slowly, Sansa began to raise her hips and bring them back down. The moment she felt comfortable enough, the need for him had built up and was now overflowing. She was unable to stop her body as it took on a mind of it's own. Her hands were wrapped around his shoulders and her head tilted back, allowing her hair to tickle his fingers that dug into her backside. His other hand still wrapped around the back of her throat, holding her in place. Petyr's eyes feasted on her body's reactions at the same time that little moans escaped her beautiful body. He too allowed his groans to fill the space in the room along with hers.

Feeling her juices slide down the length of him each time she lifted her body, leaving her empty and him needing more, it was a tease that would quickly be gone in a flash when her hips came down over his, enveloping his member deep into her depths. Her womanhood shuddered with each thrust he made into her at the same time that her body came down onto his.

Petyr couldn't take it any longer. Moving his hands to her waist, he pulled her up. Sansa regained consciousness it seemed from the lull her body had put her mind in. She took the cue and lifted herself from his lap to stand. Her legs were already shaky. Petyr stood and moved behind her. With his wet erect manhood pressing against the crevice of her backside, Sansa tensed. It was the position she hated the most. It brought back memories of Ramsay every time. No one had ever made her forget them like this.

Sansa's whole body tensed, going rigid as his fingers stroked her arms slowly and gently. Sansa took deep breaths, closing her eyes to try and ward off the memories. Petyr used one hand to push Sansa's hair around to one side and over her chest. He lips found the sweet tight skin of her neck and his lips pressed gently into them while still grinding his member into the space between her cheeks. He could feel just how rigid her body had become and he knew why.

The position he had been in gave her control. Now with her back to him, she was forced to give up all control. It was why men like Ramsay preferred it over any other sexual position a person could think of. Petyr did love having that control, however, he didn't want to cause her pain. But he had a hunch, one that he was going to push finally. He wasn't going to allow her to get out of this. He was going to take the memory away and replace it with another.

With his hands on her hips, Petyr moved Sansa, pushing her toward the chaise. “This is the only time a Queen should be on her knees, sweetling.” Petyr whispered in her ear just before helping her to kneel on the chaise. With her shins resting on the cushion, her bottom sat between them. Her hands resting on the material between her legs, she turned her head to look back up at him. She wanted to protest but the look on Petyr's face kept her from saying a word.

Bending over her, now suddenly taller, Petyr bent his body over her and pressed his lips to her neck once again. It eased some of the tenseness that she felt. Bringing his hand around her, he slipped his hand between her thighs and inserted two fingers into her depths. An immediate gasp followed by a moan was exactly what Petyr wanted to hear. It was hard not to smile but somehow he kept himself from breathing the contact of his lips on her neck.

Slowly she began to ride his fingers, his thumb rubbing against the bud just below her tuft of red curls. Sansa allowed him to pleasure her like this, her body arched, jutting her chest out and her hips moving as if she still sat on his lap. Petyr brought his other hand around to grasp her breast in his hand, toying with the swollen tip of her peak in his fingers which only added to the joy and Ecstasy that the Queen felt in that moment.

Feeling her walls contract and pulse around his fingers along with the moaning that began in her throat, Petyr knew she was close to climax. He grinned and sped up the motions of his fingers, moving into her with gusto and allowing his thumb to press harder into the little bundle of nerves. Within a few seconds, her juices had left a puddle between her thighs on the chaise, his hand soaked with her honey. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from her holds and brought it up to his lips. Sansa opened her eyes just as he began licking her taste from his digits. Sansa shuddered at the scene she had succumbed to.

Petyr looked down into her eyes just as he pressed her shoulders forward, making her lean forward once his fingers were clean. Placing his hand on her shoulder, his other hand guided the head of his length back into her folds. First he could feel her tense. She was sensitive now. It was exactly how he wanted her. Her swollen walls felt even more soaked through and even more swollen as he entered her. It was pure heaven.

Sansa tensed a little as her hands gripped the back of the chaise. Her nails dug into the wood. She had to remind herself he wasn't Ramsay as he entered her. She was to remind herself that this was Petyr, that he wasn't going to hurt her, that he would never bring her any physical harm. He loved her and would protect her always and that her memories didn't own her. Ramsay was long gone and this was a man she loved.

Still, Sansa bit her lip and closed her eyes in fear. Even as she felt pleasure, the memories of him were hard to rid herself of. Petyr could sense this and stroked her back softly before leaning forward. He pressed his chest against her back and wrapped an arm around her body while his other pressed into the cushion of the chaise to hold him up. With his hand around her body, Petyr pushed his hand back down between her thighs where he pressed his fingers back against the sensitive button.

This evoked a cry from Sansa's lips. The pain mixed with the pleasure she felt and her fingers dug harder into the chaise, leaving little marks from where she gripped fiercely. Petyr's hips rocked into her now, a force that left the sounds of skin meeting skin along with her moans and his feral grunts and moans ringing out through the room.

Sansa opened her eyes and suddenly the memory wasn't there. All she knew in that moment was Petyr. All she felt in that moment was Petyr. Everything was suddenly replaced by him. She leaned back into him, pressing her body back against the warmth of his chest as she held her hips at the perfect angle for him. Petyr groaned and quickened his fingers on that sensitive little bud between her thighs.

All of the noises that filled the space of the room seemed to drown out any effort of speech between Sansa and Petyr. No words could be said. No words would be worth uttering. They simply enjoyed one another. Their smell, their taste, their feel. Everything was burning into their brains in that moment. Everything was so vivid and real that it would forever be a memory that would never be forgotten. It would be a memory that would no longer inflict pain and fear in her and it would be a memory that he would forever cherish.

The tightness in his sack grew as he felt her walls contracting and squeezing him. A second climax caused Sansa to shudder and shake against Petyr's chest while the coiling of his belly lead him to believe that his was not far off. So he plunged into her depth with such a force that Sansa had to hold onto the chaise so she didn't collapse. Petyr's hands moved to her hips and held her steady as he rocked into her with his last few stroked before his climax finally surged through him.

Releasing his seed into her, stream by stream, Petyr let out a guttural moan of pure bliss. His head tilted back, face raised toward the ceiling, lips parted, eyes closed, sweat dripping from his brow. His last few strokes into her left him spent and unable to move. Briefly, he debated pulling out of her and sitting on the chair but it wouldn't suffice. Instead, when he gained the strength, Petyr pulled himself from her depths as he began to grow soft inside of her. Putting an arm under her knees and the other wrapped around her shoulders as he lifted her into his arms.

Leaning her cheek into his shoulder, Sansa allowed Petyr to carry her to wherever he wished to go. He walked over to his bed and laid her gently down into the bed. Once she had been placed into the bed, he pulled the duvet up around her body. He then removed the items of clothing from the bed and placed them to the side before he joined her.

Sansa scooted into Petyr's space, allowing him to wrap his arms securely around her. For the first time, he nuzzled into a man and allowed him to make her feel protected and secure. She hugged her body against his frame and nuzzled his chest with her nose. His arms met around her back where he stroked the flesh. This would allow for the young red head to slowly begin to drift off into a deep slumber that she hadn't had in nights.

Petyr however stayed awake. The sounds of her breathing and the sounds of the fire gave him comfort but the idea that he was still going to leave tomorrow unbeknownst to her didn't. He knew it would hurt. He knew it would cause her more tears, more pain. As much as he didn't want to do it to her, he couldn't stay in the capital any longer. He needed to go back to the Vale to make some very big decisions. He needed to be apart from her. Of course he had just spent years apart from his beloved but what had transpired over the past few weeks was enough.

He was exhausted and he knew that she was too. Being apart would be refreshing for him. He wouldn't seek the comfort of another woman. He wasn't sure she wouldn't seek the comfort of Rayner or Tyrion but he would keep a watchful eye on her, even from the Vale because of course, Petyr still had eyes and ears everywhere.


	11. Against You

 

* * *

 Chapter Eleven – Against You

* * *

Rolling over in the large bed, the red head Queen curled around a pillow, nuzzling her cheek against the plush object as it curved to her cheek. She moaned softly into it just as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face now at this angle. She squinted and brought her hand up to cover her face. Rolling onto her back she used her fists to wipe the sleep from her sore and now very dry eyes. She moved her lips and tongue a little to try and clear her mouth of the horrid breath that had formed from her good night's sleep.

As she moved her legs around, the evidence of the previous night was clear on the ache in her thighs and lower belly, along with the tenderness she felt between her legs. Her womanhood was still a bit raw and she was suddenly very aware of it. Slowly she brought her hands down and opened her eyes. She heard no movement, no breathing. She looked to the side of her, nothing. She turned her head to the other side, still nothing.

Sitting up quickly, Sansa looked around the room. The wardrobe doors hung open. The remnants of Petyr were nowhere to be found. Only clues that he had been there. Like an empty glass of wine sitting next to a decanter that had only been half drunk along with half eaten food. The open wardrobe doors. There was also something sitting on the table that caught Sansa's eye along with a long green robe that was draped across a chair.

Slowly, Sansa got out of the bed. Her legs screamed at her to sit back down but she pushed past that uneasy feeling in her legs and unsteadily walked toward the table. She found the robe first. The material was expensive and a beautiful green that matched the color of the trees in Winterfell. She picked it up and she saw the mockingbird sigil woven on the chest. She pulled the robe on around her body and immediately allowed for the remaining scent of Petyr to fill her senses.

A fresh set of tears burdened the rims of her eyes. They sat just at the very corners of her eyes as Sansa tried hard to hold them back. Her eyes found the scroll on the table and she reached out to pick it up. Unraveling the scroll her eyes fixated over the delicate writing.

_'My dearest sweetling. By the time you read this I will be gone. Time in the Vale is needed. Although I feel we must spend time apart, I ache to be near you again. Perhaps now is not our time. The Vale awaits your presence after you finish in the capital. Take my gift. Keep it close. With all of my love, Petyr.”_

Sansa hadn't realized the fresh droplets of tears that littered her cheeks until she had finished reading the scroll. She allowed the parchment to curl back up as she lifted her head and looked around. Alone again. It seemed to be a trend, something Sansa had grown used to. However, her heart ached. She felt as though she had lost. No matter what war, what battle she had been in, nothing felt more painful than the pain Sansa felt just then.

Pulling the robe around her tight, she pushed the scroll into the pocket and looked down at the table when something metal caught her sight. A single round ring. She picked up the silver metal to examine it closer. She used one hand to wipe her eyes as she sniffled before looking more closely at it. Etched in the inside of the band was her name and on the outside was carvings of her family's sigil with a beautiful combination of swirls in blue. Sansa placed the ring on her middle finger of her right hand and looked down at it. It was beautiful.

Bringing her head back up, Sansa looked around the room one last time before walking to where her clothes still laid in a heap on the floor. She picked them up and looked over at the fire burning in the fireplace. Petyr must have started it before he left. She tossed the fabric into the fire. She wouldn't want to wear the dress now. It would always remind her of last night. Plus, she wasn't sure how she would have explained the Hilda why the clasps on her dress were broken and the fabric ripped.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa watched as the clothing caught fire quickly and burned in the fireplace. She then turned around to sneak out of the room and return to her chambers. This time, the halls were as quiet as ever. Not a single person crept in the halls except her. Still, Sansa took the back passageways back to her room. Even while everyone still slept, she feared to be seen again as she had been coming from Tyrion's bed.

When she got back to her room safely, almost sure that she hadn't been seen, Sansa closed the door behind her and glanced down at the ring on her finger. A symbol of her love for him. She would wear it as if to silently and secretly say that she belonged to Petyr Baelish. It was embellished with things signifying her family name but it was his way of secretly claiming her as his own without staying in the capital, without shouting it to the world. Their secret.

“Did you grow taller, sister?” A voice suddenly rung out.

Sansa jumped, her heart lurching in her chest violently. She turned her head to see who had spoken only to find the last person she expected to see in that moment.

“Arya?” Sansa asked, almost not believing that it was she who stood leaning against her bookshelf, arms crossed over her chest.

Without another word, the two women strode toward each other and quickly embraced in a hug. Sansa shut her eyes tight as did her younger sibling. “I have missed you so much.” Arya said quietly with her head against her older and taller sister's shoulder. Sansa rested her cheek against Arya's head and the two stood there hugging one another tightly.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa pulled back and looked down at Arya while the shorter of the two sisters looked back up at Sansa. “How did you get in?” Sansa asked curiously.

Arya shrugged, “I have my ways.”

“So you're not here to harm, Bran?” Sansa asked curiously.

“What?” Arya laced her brows together in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

Sansa sighed, “Bran had a vision that you were coming with a band of men to harm him.” She admitted to her younger sister.

“A vision? That couldn't be true. I would never.” Arya in that moment was shocked.

“That's what I said.” Sansa sighed in relief. “I told him that whatever his vision had told him was a misunderstanding and that something was very wrong.”

Smiling, Arya took a hold of Sansa's hands, “The reason I have returned is because I miss home and I have not returned empty handed.”

Sansa's eyes lit up at Arya's words, “I must hear what you have discovered!” She gleamed.

“First, I must eat. My journey has been long. I'm quite tired.” Arya sighed.

“Yes, of course. Does Bran know you are here?” Sansa asked curiously.

“Yes. I have already spoken to him. I wanted to surprise you however.” Arya chuckled softly.

Sansa for a moment had forgotten her ordeal. Arya's return home and without a sword in hand brought the Queen such happiness. Even though her happiness, that ache in her heart still lingered. However, she didn't want to focus on that pain of Petyr's disappearance. She wanted to focus on the fact that Arya had returned to Westeros and much to her delight, it confirmed that she had rightfully defended Arya.

* * *

“Eldergarde is very similar to Westeros. To the north is Pearlfrost, the west is Saltfalls, south is Whitegulf and to the east is Fairspire. Their capital is actually Fairspire. That was where we actually docked when I first arrived.” Arya explained as she stood before her brother, sister and the rest of the council at Kings Landing.

“Were you scared?” Sansa asked aloud.

Shaking her head, Arya looked over at Sansa. “Actually, no. They were very welcoming. They didn't have guards lining their docks. It was just simple merchants going to and from where they needed. They did charge a heavy piece for us to dock but when they found out all I had was Westeros currency, they immediately took me to Chancellor Zakar Vollorlan. He is the overseer of Fairspire.”

“Overseer?” Bran asked curiously.

“Yes. Eldergarde doesn't have Kings or Queens. They have Chancellors that oversee each territory. Zakar is Chancellor over Fairspire. The Chancellors come together once a fortnight and they discuss all sort of matters. They have quite a unique system of power. I've never heard anything of it nor have I ever seen anything like it.” Arya explained to them.

“Why did they take you to Zakar when they saw your currency?” Tyrion questioned.

“Well, that is a long story.” Arya took a deep breath before she begun, knowing this was going to take some explaining. “Eldergarde was founded by a man named Larazos Vollorlan. He was from ancient Westeros. The North to be exact.” Arya walked over to a sack that were laying by one of the men she had sailed across the sea with and pulled a book from it.

Walking over to the table that Bran and Sansa sat at, Arya sat the book in front of them. The two looked over the book curiously.

“Inside that book explains everything.” Arya informed them. “Basically, Larazos was sent by the King of the North to find land to conquer. However, He believed he could create a better world and with a small group of sailors, they set out on a quest to find uninhabited land. To his surprise, he came across Eldergarde. Back then it had no name. Instead of coming back to Westeros, Larazos decided to stay and live with the people who inhabited the land.” Arya looked between Bran and Sansa as she explained what she knew.

“Larazos wrote that he fell absolutely in love with the land and the people of Eldergarde. The local tribe was known as the Children of the Red. They lived along the Rojas river, a river that in the spring turns red. They took it as a sign from their gods as a time of death to evil and would signify a time of birth, prosperity and peace. It's said that Larazos lived with them, learned their language and their way of life. He even took the tribe king's youngest daughter as his bride.”

“Together, Larazos and Imendi had four children; Osteria, Lazris, Nyessa and Kyrin. They would become the founding leaders of Eldergarde. Osteria would claim the lands to the south and establish Whitegulf. Lazris claimed the lands to the east which would become Fairspire. Nyessa claimed the lands to the north and begun Pearlfrost. And the youngest child, Kyrin would take the land to the west and create Saltfalls.”

Walking over to the sack, Arya grabbed something rolled like a scroll only it looked like a large scroll. She made her way over the table and stood at one end. Shaking the roll, it rolled down the surface of the table in front of Sansa and Bran. It was a map.

“This is Eldergarde.” Arya said with a grin.

Sansa and Bran leaned forward. It was a beautifully decorated map of the lands of Eldergarde. Their eyes feasted on it's beauty just from the map. The south was decorated with trees and beaches. To the west was the desert lands and the salt mines. To the north were the dark snowy mountains and forests. And to the east was the bay of Fairspire labeled as 'Coral Waters Bay' which would lead to the sea that separated Westeros and Eldergarde.

“If Larazos knew that Westeros was to the East of Eldergarde, why wouldn't he include it on a map?” Bran asked curiously.

Arya shrugged in response, “No one really knows. It's speculated that Larazos didn't want anyone to return to Westeros because he hated it so much. His people believed that Westeros would bring death and destruction to their home and have since refused to allow others to venture out this far.”

“But in my vision, I saw you attacking my men, Arya. You have to understand my shock.” Bran said as he looked up from the map and looked into his older sister's eyes.

“I know. Sansa told me.” Arya sighed. “I'm not sure why you saw that in your vision, but I'm not here to bring you harm, Bran. Nor you, or Sansa. I come to share what I have discovered. I come to share that Westeros is linked to another land far off from here. You must come to see Eldergarde. It is a wonderful place. There are no wars, only peace. People do not fight for power, they fight to protect one another.”

“It sounds far too good to be true,” Tyrion sighed as he shifted in his seat.

Arya narrowed her eyes at the imp, “Then come see it for yourself.”

“We can not just set sail for a new unknown land, Arya. Bran and I have kingdoms to run. I've already been away from Winterfell for far too long.” Sansa explained as she sat back in her seat. “Perhaps in due time when things have settled.”

Arya was a little disappointed but she understood. “Yes. In due time, your grace. There is so much Westeros could learn from Eldergarde. You wouldn't believe how different things are there. It is like a paradise.” Arya grinned.

“It sounds beautiful, Arya.” Bran smiled at his sister's delight. It was a relief to see that Arya wasn't there to create chaos. Something in Bran kept him from relaxing however. What he saw in his vision may not have happened... yet. Something didn't feel right about this and he was going to keep a watchful eye.

“It truly is.” Arya grinned.

“Where will you be residing whilst you are home?” Tyrion asked curiously.

“I would like to return to Winterfell with Sansa.” Arya answered.

“Wonderful. You must come to see what has become of the North.” Sansa grinned from ear to ear.

“I cannot wait. I would like to stay in Kings Landing just a little longer.” Arya turned and motioned for the three men behind her to step forward. “This is Darin, Nyx and Sascha. Darin is the captain of the boat I came here on. Nyx and Sascha are his two most loyal friends and his crew members. They have come to share their stories with us. Sascha is actually Chancellor Zakar's grandson. He is young, barely fifteen but he was eager to come see Westeros.”

“Lovely to meet you all. Welcome to Westeros.” Bran grinned at the three men who bowed their heads back at him.

“Arya has informed us of your customs.” The eldest who Arya introduced as Darin said first. “We thank you for allowing us into your home.”

Bran eyed the middle of the three men, introduced as Nyx. He didn't smile, didn't react. His eyes merely watched the room, as if remembering each person that were in the room. He couldn't help but feel uneasy when Bran's eyes connected with the almost glowing blue eyes that found his when their eyes connected. Something felt off about the young man. He kept his thoughts to himself.

“Tonight, we will feast in your honor.” Sansa grinned. “For Arya's return home and the friends she has brought with her.”

“I would like that very much.” Arya smiled back at her sister.

Bran gave a smile and a nod of his head. “Of course. We shall celebrate tonight. To Arya and our new friends.” However, this wouldn't be Bran's acceptance of the newcomers. His sister didn't seem to act herself and these new friends of hers seemed deceiving. There was something especially off putting about the Nyx fellow and Bran would be sure to have them watched closely by his guards and the others of Kings Landing while they stayed there with Arya.


	12. To Myself I Turned

 

* * *

 Chapter Twelve – To Myself I Turned

* * *

“Where is Sansa?” Arya asked Bran when she arrived at the breakfast table to join him for breakfast.

“I'm not sure.” Bran said worriedly. He turned to one of his servants, “Ogden, can you fetch my sister please?”

“Of course, your grace.” With that, the tall black haired man turned on his heel and disappeared down a long hallway.

Ogden made his way through the palace walls before he arrived at Sansa's door. He gave it a strong knock. He could hear movement and voices on the other side but waited patiently for the door to open. Once it had, Hilda, Sansa's handmaid appeared in the doorway with a wet cloth in her hands and a dry towel hung over her shoulder.

“Yes?” Hilda asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“King Bran is requesting Queen Sansa to join he and Lady Stark at the breakfast table.” Ogden informed the blonde servant.

“Well tell him that your grace is quite ill and will not be joining them.” Hilda sighed.

“Is she alright?” Ogden asked, his voice lowering to a whisper.

Hilda nodded, “I think so. Perhaps we may get the Maester?”

“Of course. I will inform the King and then I will request the presence of the Maester.” Ogden said.

The two bowed their heads and Ogden walked off while Hilda shut the door behind her as quietly as possible.

Ogden made his way back to Bran and Arya and stood at the end of the table. “Your grace, Queen Sansa's handmaid has informed me that your grace is very ill.”

Bran and Arya both dropped their forks and looked up at Ogden. “Sansa is sick?” Arya asked as worry filled her. She quickly placed her napkin on the table top and stood, pushing her chair out from under her.

“Hilda is requesting the Maester.”

Bran and Arya looked at one another before Arya took off down the hall toward her sister. Bran nodded his head to Ogden. “Of course. Please go bring Maester Cason to tend to her needs.” Bran said before taking a drink of his water. “Then I want an update on my sister immediately.”

“Yes, your grace.” Ogden said before disappearing through another doorway.

Bran sighed. He hoped whatever was going on with Sansa didn't have anything to do with Arya's return. It had been a few weeks now and still nothing bad had come from Arya returning home but that still didn't mean that Bran rested any easier.

* * *

Sounds of retching came from the other side of the door as Arya pressed her ear gently against Sansa's door. She could hear the voices from her side of the door.

“I've got your hair, your grace.” Hilda's voice came softly. The sounds of Sansa's retching were loud and violent sounding.

Arya gently pushed open the door and peered in. The door made a loud noise as it swung open to allow for Arya to appear. Hilda turned her head and was about to shout at whoever entered but the moment she saw Arya appear, she just looked back at Sansa.

The moment Sansa stopped emptying her stomach in the small basin, she sat back on her feet and allowed for Hilda to wipe her mouth along with press the cool wet cloth against the back of her neck firmly.

“Sansa, are you alright?” Arya asked as she shut the door behind her. “We've sent for the Maester immediately.” She revealed to her sister as she approached the two women.

“I'm not sure.” Sansa said through a panting breath. “I haven't been able to sleep all night. I've had this intense burning in my chest.” Sansa explained as she tried to breath easily.

“Drink, your grace.” Hilda said as she lifted the water to Sansa's lips.

Arya finally walked across the room to Sansa and Hilda and took the rag from Hilda's hands to help her care for her older sister. In her years, she never remembered Sansa ever being sick. Even when they were small children. Not even a fever. A stomach ache here and there. But never anything like this. It worried her to her core.

Sansa tried to stand but Arya's hand on her back stopped her. “No, stay. Do not get up.” Arya instructed her sister who let out a horrible noise.

Suddenly Sansa's body curled forward and she began to empty her stomach. The retching noises that came from her body were purely vile and full of pain. It made Arya wince sympathetically for her sister. She had never witnessed such sickness from Sansa and the fluid that was brought up into the basin was the most ugly color accompanied with such an awful smell that Arya had ever smelled.

The moment her vomiting ceased, Sansa braced herself on the floor and breathed hard while Hilda wiped the sick from her lips. Sansa let out a whimper and rubbed her hand over her stomach. Arya began to rub the cold wet grad around the exposed area of Sansa's back where her shift created a V down the center of her back.

“I want to lay down.” Sansa moaned in pain.

“Help me get her to the bed.” Arya ordered Hilda.

The blonde nodded and wrapped an arm around Sansa's arm and Arya slung her sister's other arm around her shoulders and between the two small women they were able to get an uneasy Sansa to her feet and slowly walked her into the other room where her bed was sitting, disheveled but inviting Sansa to lay down on it's top.

Once they got her over to the bed, they eased Sansa down into a sitting position. Before they could even pull away completely, Sansa whimpered and bent forward, the vomit forcing its way out of her throat and onto the floor. She let out a loud groan once she had closed her mouth. “I'm sorry.” She whimpered to Hilda and Arya.

“Shh, do not apologize.” Arya urged. She nodded to Hilda to clean it up while she helped Sansa to lay back against the pillows and placed the wet rag on her forehead.

Meanwhile, Hilda used the towel over her shoulder to clean up the sick on the floor before walking out to throw it in with the other disgusting and dirty towels she had used to clean up the other bits of Sansa's vomit. She then emptied the basin that Sansa had been vomiting in and brought it back to the room clean and ready to be used again.

Arya took the bowl in her hands and placed it on the beside table next to Sansa's bed. She sighed softly and pressed the towel around Sansa's face gently.

“I hope the Maester comes soon.” Hilda said hopefully. “She's been going for the last hour like this.” She informed Arya as she began to fan Sansa's face with a fan.

Sansa groaned and turned her head to the side, enjoying the feeling of the air on her skin. Her body was sweating tremendously. She pulled her shift up to her mid thigh and allowed her legs to rest on top of the heavy comforter on the bed but kept herself modest enough.

“I just want to die.” Sansa mumbled. “I'm so hot. This burning in my chest is only getting worse.” Sansa groaned painfully.

“The Maester will be here shortly, I'm sure.” Arya said to both Hilda and Sansa. She hated seeing her sister so ill and she hoped it would subside soon.

The three women sat around like that for a little while. Sansa would vomit into the new basin and Hilda and Arya would clean her up and try to ease her pain a little. Finally when the Maester arrived, he immediately examined Sansa's vomit and then began to examine her body.

Hilda and Arya stood off to the side, watching to be sure he didn't do anything to harm Sansa. Arya was quite protective over her older sister and didn't trust anyone, not even a Maester to look her over. She kept her feelings at bay and allowed him to examine her. Meanwhile, Sansa groaned in pain, throwing up twice while being examined, just barely able to make it in the basin in time both times.

Once he was done, he turned to Arya and Hilda, mainly to face Arya. “It seems your grace has come down with an illness that I've only seen from the Vale. Young Robin suffered from it as a boy. Strange how it's suddenly made it's way to the Queen.” Maester Cason explained with a sigh.

“Is she going to be alright?” Arya pressed.

“Yes. Your grace will be fine. If it is exactly the illness that young Robin suffered from, Queen Sansa will need plenty of rest. We must keep her comfortable.” Maester Cason pulled a vial from his pocket and handed it to Hilda. “Be sure to give this to her in a cup of ale. It should settle her stomach.”

Hilda nodded and took the vial. “I'll go get the ale.”

Arya nodded and watched at Hilda left the room. Arya sighed and rubbed her chin with her fingers. “Thank you, Maester Cason.”

The man bowed his head and exited the room leaving Arya alone with Sansa.

“It's not that sort of sickness.” Sansa muttered from the bed.

Arya let out a laugh and approached the bed where she took her sister's hand in hers. “You are sick, Sansa. You must rest. I'm sure it is merely the fever making you say such things.”

Sansa opened her eyes and looked up at Arya. “It's not.” Sansa shook her head slowly. Sansa began to adjust herself in bed and took a deep breath. She covered her mouth and let out a cough. She then rested back against the bed and swallowed hard.

“What do you mean?” Arya asked curiously, rubbing the wet towel over Sansa's neck and jaw slowly and gently.

“Do you remember when our mother became ill? Just before she found out she was carrying Rickon?” Sansa asked Arya. She in return simply nodded her head.

Sansa didn't say a word, wondering if Arya understood the connection between the two ordeals. It took a moment before Arya's eyes widened. It seemed to click suddenly in the woman's mind and shock quickly turned from shock to confusion.

“Wait.... What?” Arya asked.

Sansa shook her head and closed her eyes. A feeling of shame fell over her as she didn't want to admit what she had done. “It's a long story.” Sansa sighed.

“With whom?” Arya pressed further.

Sansa opened her eyes and glanced up at her sister, “Do you want a lie or the truth?”

“Truth of course,” Arya answered.

“I'm not sure.” Sansa felt the twinge of guilt mix with the sickness and the shame.

“What do you mean you're not sure, Sansa? Have you been sleeping with many men now that you are a Queen? I mean you've always been desired by blokes but is it really that awful?” Arya asked, expecting the worst of it to be that her sister had become quite a whore.

“No!” Sansa gasped before adjusting in the bed once again. “Gods what do you really think of me?” Sansa asked her sister in shock. She lifted her hand and Arya pulled her into a sitting motion.

Arya helped her sister to sit up and helped to adjust the pillow behind her back so that she could sit comfortably.

“Then why do you say that you are not sure?” Arya asked while adjusting the pillow behind Sansa's back.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa leaned back against the pillow and looked into Arya's eyes. “While you were away, while I was being Queen in Winterfell, I began training with my guard, Rayner. I got carried away...” Sansa paused and looked away.

“...And?” Arya urged her to continue.

“Then I came here for Bran and I was with Tyrion.” Sansa was afraid to look at Arya and chose to look at her hands sitting across her stomach. “And then Petyr found out about Rayner and Tyrion and he threatened to leave. So I went to him, I begged him to stay in Kings Landing, that I realized it were he who I had loved...” Sansa paused as she brought her eyes up to Arya. “...And I bed him too.”

“Seven hells!” Arya gasped. “Well you have been quite busy.”

Sansa reached over and gave Arya a smack on the arm. “It's not funny!” Sansa growled as her sister begun to laugh at her predicament.

“I just laugh because I would have never pictured you of all people to bed three men.” Arya said while rubbing the part of her arm that Sansa had smacked.

“Well I didn't do it on purpose. It just happened!” Sansa groaned.

“And how do you know you are carrying a child?” Arya asked curiously.

“I've been feeling ill for about a week. It's just progressed and has gotten worse.” Sansa rubbed her hand over her stomach. “I haven't a moonblood since just before your arrival home.” Sansa added and looked down at her stomach, wondering if her instincts were telling her the truth.

“What are you going to do?” Arya asked curiously.

Sansa shrugged. “Perhaps retreat to the North and have my baby.” She answered.

“Surely you are going to tell them.” Arya added.

Sansa looked back up at Arya, “And tell them what exactly? That I'm not sure who the father may be? That's ridiculous.”

“Well it's how you got into this situation, Sansa. What will you tell your people? What will the North know?” Arya pried her sister further.

“I haven't quite thought of that yet. Rayner will be the one who comes back to Winterfell with me. Perhaps maybe a lie? They seem to be coming from my lips a lot these days.” Sansa sarcastically answered.

Arya rolled her eyes and placed a hand on Sansa's, “No lies, Sansa Stark.” She chided her. “Perhaps that you have chosen to bear a child for your legacy without a king.”

“I'm sure that will go over well.” Sansa rolled her eyes this time.

“Well, you're not lying. But you're just not telling the whole truth.” Arya suggested. “I'll come with you.”

“True.” Sansa looked over at Arya again. “Go with me? Won't you return to Eldergarde?”

“Eventually. But if my sister is to have a child, I'd like to be there. I've never been an aunt before.” Arya gleamed with a proud smile.

Sansa smiled a little but the idea of having the child was frightening and these were not the circumstances that she had wished for. Arya noticed the long face and stroked Sansa's arm softly.

“It will be alright.” Arya comforted Sansa.

“I feel guilt because I wish I had not been so stupid.” Sansa whimpered.

“Shh, do not say such things. You are a Queen and may do as you like. I will slit anyone's throat who dare say otherwise.” That elicited a smile from Sansa. “What of Bran?” Arya questioned.

“I really don't wish to tell him. I think I will wait.”

“Are you sure that is a good idea? He sees everything.”

“Then let him see. But I do not wish to admit it. I'm not ready.” Sansa said while looking down at her belly. She placed the palm of her hand over her stomach and took a deep breath. This wasn't what she wanted. This wasn't how she wanted things to be. She wanted more than this. She wasn't sure exactly how she was going to do this.


	13. Distant Sun

 

* * *

 Chapter Thirteen – Distant Sun

* * *

Hours turned into days which turned into weeks. Sansa's return home was something she had felt was long over due. Visiting Bran was nice but she missed Winterfell. At least this time she were able to return home without it being into shambles as it once were before the Starks had taken their home back. It felt good to see familiar faces and see familiar places.

Arya's return was celebrated in Winterfell as it had been in Kings Landing. The return of the Stark sister was quite the celebration too. Of course, Sansa escorted her little sister around the North. She showed her the growth of their capital. She showed her the academy that she had constructed in honor of their family. Gave her a tour of it, allowed her to sit in on lessons being given to a group of young ladies. Arya couldn't believe how well the North was thriving thanks to her sister. She always knew Sansa would make a fine queen some day.

As for Sansa's little secret, she presented the idea to her council that she were to have a child without a king. Of course they believed such an ordeal was preposterous and unheard of. They slighted Sansa and proclaimed that she were possibly unfit to be Queen. However, by the end of her meeting with her council, she quickly reminded them that she was their Queen whether they liked it or not and it were people like them that she wanted to rid the world of. She even dismissed two of her council members when they refused to stand by their Queen's side.

At first, Sansa regretted telling them. She thought that maybe she could have just disappeared once she started to show, perhaps to the Vale or somewhere she could hide away for a while like the wall. Give Jon another visit and have her baby in secret. Arya reminded Sansa that the North belonged to her and it was her word that they must listen to. If she wanted to have a child, a bastard as many would see it, without a husband and without a King to sit beside her, then they would have no choice but to follow her still.

It still didn't stop her from feeling like it was wrong.

She wrote to Jon at the wall first to reveal the news to him. She even joked that perhaps her son would join him at the wall if her people would have it their way. She wrote to him and told him how happy she was even under the circumstances. She also told him that she missed him. Even though they weren't really brother and sister, she still missed her big 'brother'.

To Sansa's delight, Arya had decided to stick around. She frequently visited the academy, deciding to teach the young lads and lasses how to fight. Arya adored seeing future women of Winterfell making decisions of their own thanks to Sansa's rules. She was making it possible for women to become knights and women to own land and women to think for themselves and live for themselves. Not everyone enjoyed this but those that did praised Queen Sansa with their highest regards.

Sansa still had one last thing to do before she could continue being the best Queen possible; she needed to tell the possible fathers of her fetus that she was carrying this unborn child. She didn't know how she was going to write the letters.

Sitting alone in her solar, Sansa rubbed her growing belly with her free hand. Now in her third month of pregnancy, her belly was beginning to grow. She wasn't quite showing yet with her gowns on but when she found herself nude or simply in her shift, she could see where her swollen belly was beginning to protrude from her sternum. A part of her was amazed at the gift of life growing in her womb. The other half of her was quite upset that she didn't have the father, whomever that was, to share the gift with.

With her other hand, Sansa tapped the quill on the desk surface. Her eyes searched around the room as she tried to think of how to start her letter to Tyrion. She could also envision the look on the imp's face at the idea of being a father and her heart almost broke in two at the idea of him being let down by it. It was almost enough to stop her from her writing the letter. Arya's words echoed in her mind however. _'It's only right for them to know it could be their child in your womb, Sansa.'_ Her words floated around like music she was unable to free from her memories.

Taking a deep breath, she dipped the quill in the ink and put the tip to the parchment.

 _'Tyrion, I write to you.....'_ Sansa paused in thought. _'to inform you of a secret I have kept from you. It is uncertain at this time if you are the one, but I am with child.'_ Sansa stopped again, wondering if she should keep going. _'I am sorry to have kept this from you but I feel it is necessary at this time. Once the baby is born I feel we will have a better understand of who the father may be. I will write upon the baby's arrival. I hope you can forgive me. Sansa Stark.'_ Ending the letter and keeping it short was what Sansa thought would be best. She used the wax and her stamp to seal the letter. Once the wax had dried, Sansa rolled the scroll and wrapped a piece of twine around it and tie it so it could be set out with a raven.

Now for Petyr's letter.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa stroked her belly absentmindedly as she grabbed another piece of parchment and begun to write. Since he had left Kings Landing, she had not heard from Petyr. _'My darling Petyr, I am writing you to inform you of a bit of news. It is uncertain who the father might be but I am expecting.'_ Sansa paused to take another deep breath and take a long drink of her water before she continued. _'I will write to you upon giving birth. Then I shall know who the father truly is. I am home in Winterfell where I plan to have my child. Yours truly, Sansa.'_ Again, she kept the letter short and sweet. She sealed up the scroll as she had done with Tyrion's and stood up.

Sansa made her way over to Hilda who was busy tidying up Sansa's bed chamber when she handed the scrolls to her. “Have these sent out immediately, Hilda.” She took one scroll for Tyrion. “This is to be sent to Lord Tyrion Lannister in Kings Landing.” She took the other for Petyr. “This is to be sent to Lord Petyr Baelish in the Vale.” Sansa ordered her handmaid. The blonde nodded her head, bowed to her and walked off to have the scrolls ravened out.

Turning around to head back into her solar, she was surprised to see Rayner coming through her door. His regal stature still the same, his red cloak behind him and his armor placed on his body as he always kept it on. He removed the helmet that he had been given as her royal guard and sat it down on her table.

“Rayner.” Sansa said with a tiny smile. “I wasn't expecting you.”

“I hope you don't mind, your grace.” Rayner said without emotion to his face or his voice.

“Of course. Please, have a seat.” Sansa said while motioning to his chair.

“Actually, I've come to speak to you briefly.” Rayner sighed.

“Go on.” Sansa decided herself to take a seat as he decided to stand.

“I am asking permission to be dismissed, your grace.” Rayner said quietly.

Sansa's brows laced together in confusion, “But why?” Sansa asked. “Are you unhappy?”

Rayner looked up at her from where he was standing, feet from her. “You know damn well why.” Anger suddenly rose in his voice as he was on the verge of losing his control.

“You've heard then.” Sansa sighed and stood up.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Rayner asked, demanding an answer from her.

“I was afraid because I'm not certain of the father.” Sansa sighed, being honest with him.

“Of course not.” Rayner said with a rolling of his eyes. “I'm sure you'd be relieved if it is not mine. No need for embarrassment.”

“Too late for that.” Sansa tried to joke because of her situation but Rayner took it in a different light and anger grew on his face. “No.. I don't mean...” Sansa sighed. “I just mean that I've already embarrassed myself by getting into this situation. There's really nothing I can do now except wait.”

“Well I don't plan to stick around, if that's what you want.” Rayner began to remove his armor before placing it at her feet along with his cloak. It left him in a black undershirt and black trousers. Sansa stared blankly at the armor before looking back up at him. “If the child is mine, be sure to tell him or her that I love them but I've chosen to go fight for the wall.”

Tears burned at Sansa's eyes at the sudden decision Rayner had to leave. Of course he would leave. She understood but it still didn't stop her from hurting inside.

“If it's a boy maybe I will meet him at the wall some day.” It was Rayner's turn to make a joke.

“Please don't go.” Sansa said suddenly. “I don't have another I can trust like you.”

“You have Arya.”

“Arya isn't my royal guard.”

“Well she could be.”

Sansa sighed. His voice was devoid of any emotion or any sign that he still cared for her. Of course she couldn't be angry with him. Sansa had hurt him deeply and was only continuing to cut him even deeper to the core. Plus if this child turned out not to be his, she was almost certain he would have left either way.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Rayner said quietly. He stood straight, “It's been an honor to serve you. I hope to hear reports of your glorious reign while I'm at the wall.”

Before Sansa could say a word, Rayner turned, opened the door, disappeared behind it, and shut it firmly behind him. Sansa stood there, her eyes falling to the armor he had left at her feet. This was really the last thing she needed right now. She didn't need this. She didn't want this. She wanted to go back in time to the days when it was just her as a child, running through the fields chasing after her younger siblings and playing in the forests with her friends. Suddenly, the Queen didn't want to be Queen anymore.

Lifting her hands to the crown perched on top of her head, Sansa lifted it from her head and sat it down gently on the table where Rayner had placed his helmet. Her eyes burned with tears of regret and disdain. She held them back while bending to pick up the armor, what she could at first. Slowly she piled the sheets of metal on the chair beside the table until she was pulling his cape up into her hands. She gently laid the cloak over the armor and stood back, glancing at the items.

Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. Her heart was hurting. Not just for herself but for the fetus that grew in her womb. If Rayner was the father, he was gone. Even if he wasn't, she felt the pangs of pain in her chest. Her best friend, her defense trainer, a man she considered to be like family was gone.

Memories of Rayner flooded Sansa's mind. The first time she met him, when he was knighted as her guard, when he was first training her, the first time they touched intimately, the nights they stayed up late simply drinking and conversing. All of these memories brought a slew of aches in her chest as she thought about the idea of her no longer being in his presence.

The Queen turned and made her way over to the window of her solar. She looked down at the entrance to the palace of her home and watched Rayner with a black cloak around his shoulders come walking out from the big wooden door. His blonde hair was a stark contrast to his dark clothes. As if he knew she would be watching, he turned and looked up. Their eyes connected momentarily before he turned and continued right through the bustling courtyard and out of the gate. Just like that, her knight was gone.

* * *

“What if it's a girl?” Arya asked aloud, sitting alongside Sansa as they feasted on their meal.

Sansa thought for a moment and gave a shrug. “I often thought of our mother's name. It is quite pretty.” Sansa said before taking a bite of the tender meat that had been placed in front of her.

Arya took a deep drink of her ale and shifted in her seat. “I heard the most beautiful names while I was in Eldergarde.” She said with a grin.

“Like what?” Sansa asked, suddenly very interested in the names she had heard.

Thinking about it for a moment, Arya began, “Well a few of the women who lived at the inn where I stayed had pretty names. Preeya was the name of the woman that ran the inn. Nastasia was her daughter's name. Ayla was their barkeep's name. She had a friend who frequented the inn the name Artemis with a twin sister named Aramiss.”

Sansa grinned, “They are very beautiful names. Perhaps we could come up with something unique and unheard of here in Westeros. I'd like to think I shall give my daughter a name she could be proud of as I would for a son.”

“Have you thought of boy names?” Arya asked curiously.

“Boy names are rather easier. I thought of names like Eddard and Robb. But I also have thought of other names.” Sansa said before taking more food into her mouth.

“There was a man in Saltfalls who had a strong name, Andromitus.” Arya said quickly.

“Interesting!” Sansa remarked before taking a drink of her wine. Her belly flipped as she quickly pushed the wine away with a moan. “I have grown sick of wine.” Sansa sighed.

“Perhaps too much for the babe?” Arya suggested. “There were many things that I witnessed in Fairspire. When women are going to have children, they do not indulge in wine and ale. They drink only water. It's said to help with burning in the chest and nausea. They say the babes come out stronger.”

“You know I'd think you were born and raised in Eldergarde with how much you refer to that place.” Sansa commented as she grabbed her glass of water and took a long deep drink of the liquid before placing the cup on the table.

Arya rolled her eyes in response. “Well I spent a lot of time there, Sansa. I'm sorry if you do not wish to hear of it but it's all I've known for the last few years.” Arya's tone had become slightly annoyed as Sansa's comment.

Sansa let out a breath and shook her head. “I'm sorry. You're right.” She looked across the table at Arya. “Forgive me. My emotions are everywhere.”

“It's okay. Remember how horrid our mother was towards us?” Arya asked, changing the subject a little to direct it away from them and onto memories of the past, hoping that a little lighthearted banter would help.

Grinning, Sansa nodded her head. “I remember us running through the courtyard and scaring the chickens whilst she tried to sleep.”

A chuckle came from Arya's lips at the memory. “Father was away hunting and she could hear us from her quarters. She hadn't shut her windows and she hollered down at us about it.”

A giggle slipped out of Sansa's mouth and she quickly nodded her head. Slowly the smile faded as she used her fork to pick at her food. “I miss her dearly.” Sansa admitted.

The look on Arya's face quickly mimicked Sansa's. “I do too. And father.”

“I often think they would not be very happy with decisions I have made.” Sansa sighed.

“Same. I know mother would have preferred me to marry and bare children but I don't want that. I never have.” Arya picked at her own food as they sat in silence for a moment.

“I like Aramiss for a daughter's name.” Sansa said quietly, breaking the silence.

“I agree.” Arya smiled as the two sisters shared a smile and a glance across the table at one another.


	14. Our Truth

 

* * *

 Chapter Fourteen – Our Truth

* * *

“A raven has arrived for you.” Arya's voice came from the doorway. It caused Sansa to crank her head to the side and look over at her sister who held a small scroll in her palm.

“For me? I haven't received a scroll in months.” Sansa noted aloud in confusion.

The red head struggled to stand on her own with the round belly they protruded from beneath her dress. Arya quickly went to Sansa's side to help her stand with a quiet grunt from the short woman. Once she was standing, hand resting on her lower back, Arya handed Sansa the scroll.

“You really didn't need to stand for this.” Arya said following a huff of air.

Sansa ignored her sister's comment as she pulled the twine from the scroll. She wasn't sure who would be writing her unless it was Bran or Jon.

After she had last sent ravens to Tyrion and Petyr, she had never received any responses from either of them. Jon had written her once after that but she hadn't written anything in response. She wondered if someone was sick or if it could have possibly been Rayner. These thoughts ran through her head while pulling the scroll open to read it.

 _'I should have written sooner. Words have failed me. I should be angry but here I sit watching the rain fall over the ocean with a smile. Still, my heart is sad. I hope you and the babe are well. If you need anything at all, send for me. Tyrion.'_ Sansa let out a soft sigh. She hadn't expected him to write her. The idea that he was both happy and sad at the news gave Sansa mixed feelings but she was mainly happy he was open to the idea of being a father.

Allowing the scroll to roll back in her hands, she turned her head to look over at Arya.

“Well?” She asked curiously.

“It was from Tyrion.” Sansa revealed.

“And?” Arya pressed further.

“Not much but I think the idea of being a father makes him happy.” Sansa said as she let the scroll drop from her hand and onto the table beside her.

“Still nothing from Petyr?” Arya questioned her sister. Sansa simply shook her head in response.

“Are you sure you want to go back to Eldergarde after the baby is born?” Sansa asked while beginning to walk toward the other table in the center of the room to grab a piece of fruit for herself to eat while rubbing the swollen belly through her dress.

“I wish there were another choice.” Arya sighed, leaning against the wall beside her.

“You say that as if you have none.” Sansa added with a roll of her eyes.

“Sansa, Winterfell is not my home anymore.” Arya explained.

“Nonsense. Winterfell is always a Stark's home.” Sansa declared. She held a twinkle of sadness in her tone.

Arya pushed away from the wall and approached Sansa who wasn't looking at her, “Sansa, Winterfell is _your_ home now. Jon's is the wall, Bran's is Kings Landing and mine is Eldergarde. The Starks has spread out to find our own homes.” Arya gave Sansa a reassuring smile and reached out to stroke Sansa's belly. “And my niece or nephew will be welcome at any one of those places. Whether the wall or Eldergarde, he or she will always be promised a home.”

Finally looking down at Arya, Sansa sighed and put the half eaten fruit down on the platter in front of her. “I just hate being so alone here.” Sansa admitted.

“Alone? You are surrounded by your people. What is there to be alone about? Plus once this baby comes you will have someone to fill your day with.” Arya claimed happily to Sansa.

“It's jut not the same is having my family with me.” Sansa solemnly sighed.

Continuing to stroke her belly, “Our family is growing, Sansa. You will be giving birth to the new generation of Starks. I never will. We are not even sure that Bran can and I surely will not. Embrace this wonderful new beginning. Don't think about how far apart everyone is. It's only feels like a long time. The moment we're together again doesn't feel so long.” Arya smiled.

Sansa shrugged her shoulders, “I guess you're right.”

“I know I am, silly.” Arya pulled her hand away and smiled. “Besides, I'm not leaving right away, Sansa. I told you I would stay for a bit before I left. I will send when I can.” Arya grabbed her cup of ale from the table and took a drink. “You won't have the babe for another few weeks so we have plenty of time.”

“What about your friends? Don't they long for home?” Sansa asked curiously.

Arya was the one to shrug her shoulders this time, “They can leave without me if they must. However, I think Darin is enjoying Winterfell. It's a lot like his home in Pearlfrost.”

“As long as they do not cause a ruckus. I'm due to have this baby soon and I don't want anything to harm my child or myself.” Sansa remarked while rubbing her belly with her hand.

“You have nothing to fear, sister. Everything will be just fine.” Arya smiled.

* * *

The sound of the candelabrum falling in the adjacent room to hers made Sansa stir in the night. Rubbing her eyes momentarily, the very pregnant Queen of the North looked over at her wooden door. “Hilda?” She called out sleepily. She waited a moment before there was no response. She felt that it was strange and she understand why Hilda would even be in her solar at such a time.

Turning onto her back, Sansa used what little strength she had and scooted to the edge of the bed. She had to rotate herself on her bottom so that she could reach up and hold onto the post at the end of the bed to help pull herself into a sitting position. She tucked her feet into her slippers and grabbed her robe that laid across the bed and pulled it around her.

Slowly, she made it onto her feet with a soft grunt and then tied the robe around her waist securely. She still didn't hear anymore movement from the other room and wondered if maybe she had been dreaming. However, she didn't understand that if she were dreaming, how it could wake her with such a startle. Before reaching her door, she grabbed the little dagger she kept by her chamber door and tucked it under her sleeve.

Pulling the door open quickly, Sansa peered out into the room and looked out to see if anyone was there. The room was still except for the burning embers in the fireplace. She looked out of the windows of the room and could see that the sky was a deep dark blue as if it were almost morning time to tell her exactly around what time of night or morning that it really was.

Taking a few steps out of her chamber door, she looked around her solar to try and find what had made the distinct noise. Still, she saw no one and heard nothing out of the ordinary. She began to slowly walk around the room to try and find the candle holder that had fallen but even that she couldn't find. All of them were still sitting up and the candles were all accounted for.

Now she was certain she had dreamed of it. Nothing was out of place and there was nothing out of the ordinary that she could find. Everything was in it's place and she couldn't see anything broken or knocked over anywhere. She had grown used to Winterfell's long dark nights again after being back in Kings Landing for so long and didn't need a candlestick or fire to observe her solar.

When Sansa turned however, she could have jumped right out of her skin as a man who's face she couldn't quite make out at first, caught her in one arm whilst his other hand pressed over her mouth firmly. However, he wasn't expecting her to have the dagger and she quickly let it drop from her sleeve and placed it against the man's throat.

“Aye, I wasn't expecting that.” The voice was achingly familiar.

Slowly the hand dropped from her lips and his arm dropped from around her until he was only pressing a hand against her belly that stuck out from under the shift. The warm hand against the skin of her belly made her gasp.

“Petyr?” Sansa asked while pulling the dagger back from his throat. “What are you doing here?” Sansa asked in disbelief.

The Queen stepped away quickly to light some candles so she could see him properly. She littered some fire over a few candles on a candelabra and allowed it to cast light on the man's face. Seeing his face more clearly made her breath get caught in her chest. She couldn't believe it. It really was him.

“I had to see for myself.” Petyr admitted.

“See what?” Sansa asked in confusion.

“You. Like this.” Petyr answered. He gestured to the round belly jutting out from her torso.

Petyr stepped forward and placed his hand against the flesh of her stomach. It was warm. He wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting but it was warm and hard. He thought he felt a flutter of movement from the outside but cast it aside as his own tricks of his mind.

“Must you have frightened me like that?” Sansa asked, her heart still pounding in her chest from him scaring her. “Why can't you be like everyone else and show up _announced_?”

“I came on a whim. I just arrived and I needed to see you.” Petyr said in earnest. “You... You are very pregnant.” He stammered a little.

“I'm due any day the Maester says.” Sansa informed him. She looked down at her belly and placed her hand on the opposite site of her stomach from his.

“I almost didn't believe it.” He said quietly. “I didn't think I could.” Petyr said with a soft sigh. His eyes were still fixed on the pregnant stomach between them.

“You have no idea how much I want to take it all back.” Sansa admitted. “I'm so sorry for everything I've said and done to hurt you. But I'm not the same girl that I was before. I have changed more than you know.” Sansa commented. Her eyes studied his face as she spoke. “I didn't know-”

“Don't speak.” Petyr said, cutting Sansa's words off. He finally lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I know your intention wasn't to hurt me. I know your intention wasn't necessarily selfish. I was hurt. But I shouldn't have left you in such a state.” The look on his face mixed with the words that he spoke showed the remorse that he bared.

“But I'm not sure, Petyr. It could have been Rayner or Tyrion too.” Sansa added.

“I understand that however, someone should have took the place of the father so that you wouldn't bare this alone.” Petyr moved his hands to hers and brought them to his lips where he left an invisible trail of kisses across her knuckles lovingly. “You shouldn't have had to do this alone.”

In that moment Sansa wanted to melt completely. A warmth flooded her body. The warmth that she had lost the morning she woke up and he was gone. She had thought she had finally gotten what she wanted and had been missing from her life until he left. Until she was the one to hurt him instead. She wasn't sure what was worse, him making her believe that he caused the deaths of her family or her making him believe he was the only one.

Regardless, they had both done wrong and they had both been horrible to one another before. She to him and he to her. Petyr wasn't going to let that stop him this time. This time he was going to write his wrongs properly.

“I was wrong to leave you.” Petyr reached out, allowing one of her hands to drop from his grasp and stroked her cheek. “All I have done is think of you. All I could see is red, all I could hear his you and all I could smell was the warmth of hearth.”

Leaning into his palm, Sansa bit her bottom lip between her teeth to try and hold back from allowing her tears to fall. This time she seemed to do pretty well at it.

“But if this baby isn't yours...” Sansa began but the soft brogue stopped her from continuing.

“As many men have done before, that doesn't matter to me, Sansa.” Bringing his hand around to the back of her neck and gently holding his hand there, “As your father did with Jon, I'd raise he or she as my own if you'd give me the chance.” Petyr affirmed to Sansa.

Eyes brimming with tears, Sansa couldn't hold back the smile on her lips any further. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't just a simple thought. This was actually happening. Petyr was the one who she believed was the love she had longed for. Their time apart since leaving Kings Landing had been rough for Sansa. All she could do was yearn to be in his embrace, to have him in her presence again and now here he was.

“Sansa..” Petyr begun quietly. He cleared his throat and pulled something from his pocket. It was a little velvet sack. He placed the sack in the palm of her hand and she could feel the weight in her hand. “I have plenty more to share.... with you.... with _our_ child.” Petyr explained as he stepped back from her only slightly.

Sansa curiously opened the sack to peek inside. Unable to make out what was in the sack, she used both hands to open the sack further before reaching in with one hand to take the contents out. Her fingers hit something hard that made little clicking noises as she stirred whatever was in there around until she grabbed a few pieces with her fingers. When her hand emerged from the bag, her eyes widened at the look of the precious stones and gems that were in her hand.

“Petyr, no...” Sansa began to protest when he cut her off yet again.

“Please, allow me.” Petyr took the sack in his hand and emptied the contents of sack in her hand. More diamonds, rubies and other jewels littered her hand making her eyes widen more. “These are precious stones from the mounts of the Vale. My intention isn't to shower you in these precious stones for my own benefit but that of our unborn child.” He reached out to stroke her belly with his hand again.

“Whether the child be from my seed or another, I will raise It as my own. _We_ will raise it as our flesh and blood. The child will be loved by all. The child will be surrounded by riches of material and of knowledge because of us. I want to help fund Winterfell. I want to bring the North and The Vale together.” Petyr paused, trying to find the right words to say to her. “I propose a marriage.” His voice was barely audible as he finally said it.

Eyes widened as the realization of what he was considering sunk in. “A marriage” She asked rhetorically. She swallowed hard as she looked over the gap between them at Petyr. The idea of marriage was a frightening one. The last man she had been married to was a tyrant and sick bastard. The one before that wasn't awful but it was a forced marriage that she had been forced into at a time in her life when she was losing everything. To say it scared her at the thought of marrying someone again was an understatement.

“I don't know.” Sansa said as she took an uneasy breath in.

“I'm not Ramsay, my love.” Petyr whispered and closed the distance between them, allowing her belly to press into his abdomen. One hand stroked the soft mound of her belly and the other wrapped around her back to hold her body to his. “There are no tricks. No games to be had. I simply propose something that I think is right. Not just for our child but for you and I. It is clear that love is a commonality between us. Tell me I lie.” Petyr dared.

Shaking her head, “There is no lie. It is true that I do love you, Petyr. But what if this is all just a mistake?” Sansa asked worriedly. “What if you can not come to love a child that isn't your blood?” Sansa asked, glancing down at her belly almost certain that the child she carried in her womb wasn't his.

“Because that child came from you.” Petyr said while forcing his hand on her belly, up to her chin to make her look back up at him. “What matters is that the child is yours. Whether he or she is of Baelish decent is no matter to me. I will love it just the same.”

Sansa leaned forward and placed her lips on Petyr's without allowing another word to be said between them. She draped her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers on her free hand in the hair at the base of his neck. Petyr let both of his hand to rest on her sides and leaned into the kiss eagerly but lovingly. The heat between them radiated in the cool morning air. Their lips burned into one another as need flared inside of their bodies. A flickering of love boasted by the kiss could be felt between them.

Pulling away slowly, Petyr couldn't help but smile and it seemed to matched the look on Sansa's cheeks too. “You need rest.” He pulled back completely and took Sansa's hand that gripped the jewels in them. He helped her to empty the stones back into the sack before closing it back up and setting it on the nearby table. He then went back to Sansa and took her hand to pull her toward the door that would take them into her bed chamber.

“But you've just gotten here.” Fear crept in Sansa's spine but she followed him nonetheless.

“And I plan to stay.” Petyr chided with a smile.

They stepped through the door and Petyr closed it softly behind him. He led the very pregnant Queen back to the bed and helped her to lay down. Petyr made his way into the bed along side her and instead of laying the full length of his body against hers, he curled around her belly and rested his cheek against her chest.

“Hello there little baby.” He whispered to her belly before placing a soft kiss on the skin of the round bump. His hand stroked Sansa's stomach lovingly, suddenly so enamored with the idea of a family, the idea of love, the idea of all of this to be had.


	15. Fragments of Faith

 

* * *

 Chapter Fifteen – Fragments of Faith

* * *

“This is absurd!” A shout came from the end of the table where the gray haired man dressed in dark blue and black colors sat perched in his seat.

“You question your Queen, Lord Vitale?” A man with long brown hair, to the right of Sansa, spoke to the man at the end.

Sansa held her hand up to both men and took a deep breath, “This comes as a shock yes, but if you are so utterly concerned of what people will think then I don't understand why it wouldn't be the right thing to do.”

“Forgive us, your grace.” A elderly woman to the left of Sansa spoke, her voice raspy from many years of use. “Lord Vitale and I come from the old world, the old ways. We are not as used to the new way as Lord Cian and Lady Saoirse maybe. The idea of a marriage coming _after_ the birth of a child is seen as something that is quite unheard of.”

“Lady Severna, This is quite out of the norm, especially for someone in my position. However, would you all rather that I marry and _then_ have my child out of wedlock? Would you prefer an heir to the throne to be fatherless? Your Queen to go without a King? You all have said so yourselves since I was crowned that it would be best, have you not?” Sansa looked between the four council members around her.

“What Queen Sansa proposes not only will benefit the throne for an heir but to have the Vale become part of the north, no longer separate, is a feat in itself.” Lady Saoirse said from beside Lord Cian.

“I have to agree with Lady Saoirse. The Vale have access to large ports of entry to Westeros that would benefit in case of war.” Lord Cian stated in agreement with Lady Saoirse.

“That is a rather good fact, Lord Cian.” Lady Severna said with a nod of her head.

“When I served Lord Stark, this would have been silenced immediately. As I've stated before, I believe the best is to go north where Queen Sansa may have the child in peace and the child should be sent to the wall the moment he is strong enough.” Lord Vitale growled in disagreement with the others.

“And if she births a girl? What then? Submit her to the brothels of the west?” Lady Severna asked with a raise of her brow toward the elderly man at the end of the table.

“Of course not! She would be sent to live as a Silent Sister. It is a respected venture for a bastard girl.” Lord Vitale suggested while adjusting his sleeves.

Sansa couldn't keep the gasp that came from her mouth at Lord Vitale's offer for her future child. “To think that you would believe that I of all people would subject my child to such a life is what I find to be absolutely outrageous and insulting, Lord Vitale.” Sansa sneered at the man. Her hand stroked her belly protectively and absentmindedly beneath the table where eyes couldn't see.

Petyr grinned when his eyes caught the sight from where he stood just off to the side of Sansa, standing at attention as she tried to get her council members to understand her reasoning for her most recent decisions.

“There is nothing wrong with being a Silent Sister, your grace.” Lord Vitale defended.

“They cater to the sick and dying and it is considered bad luck to even look upon their faces, Lord Vitale. Would you allow your daughters to be subject to such a life?” Lady Saoirse growled toward the old man. “I can't believe you would suggest something like this.”

“Now, don't be hasty. In our day it was considered an honor to serve the gods of the seven in such a way. They take a vow of chastity and they live quite peaceful lives in motherhouses.” Lady Severna said to the others. “I do not think Lord Vitale meant harm or to insult, your grace.” She said while looking over at Sansa.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa closed her eyes momentarily and pinched her forehead between her thumb and index finger as if to try and calm the pounding pain in her head.

“Are you alright, your grace?” Lord Cian asked, his voice turning to concern.

“I am fine.” Sansa said before picking her head up and looking at the others. “But whether you all agree or not, it is my choice to marry Petyr. Winterfell _will_ have a King. That King _will_ be Lord Baelish.” Sansa's voice held nothing but an edge to it, warning her council members with each word that she spoke aloud.

“And shall we call you King Littlefinger?” Lord Vitale asked snidely.

Sansa's eyes narrowed at the elderly man at the end, “You will bite your tongue or I will demand Tirius to order the Queen's guard to take it.”

Petyr couldn't help the little sly smile that cornered at his lips at the sight of his betrothed defending him. She truly was the Queen she was always meant to be.

“Now, if you do not agree with this decision then I suggest you find another council to sit upon. I will Marry Lord Baelish tomorrow. He will be crowned as King and he will sit alongside of _me_. For I am your Queen and it will still be my word over any who dare challenge it. I do not wish to be tyrannical but there are quite a few useful things I have learned from Cersei Lannister that I hope I will not have to use in the future.” Sansa warned once more.

Turning her head, Sansa nodded to Tirius and then turned her head back to the others. “I have grown tired.” Sansa sighed. “Lord Cian, I will have you send for a Septon immediately. Lady Severna, I will need a gown. Not of samite or silk. I wish to wear an ivory gown made from taffeta and lace. Lady Saoirse, you will see to it that a feast is prepared and that all of the families of the north will be in attendance. I also wish for you to see to it that the educators of the academy are invited as well. They shall by my guests of honor.”

Before Sansa had finished speaking, Tirius on one side of her and Petyr on the other, were both pulling her chair from under her and helping the very pregnant Sansa to stand. With her eyes looking out over her small council, she took another deep breath.

“I do not wish to fight with my council. I wish for your support. I feel as though I have earned that thus far. I have helped the north to prosper and grow. I only wish to continue and to see that through. The matters of your Queen should be the least of your worries. Grant me this support and I will prove to you all, as I have done time and time again, that this is the right thing for our people and for the future of the throne.”

Taking Petyr's arm, Sansa turned away from the council members and allowed for Petyr to escort her out of the room and down through a long dim corridor.

“You did very well, my love.” Petyr said with a smile. He lifted her hand to his lips as they walked, presenting a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I must admit, it went better than I had presumed it would.” Sansa smiled a little in response.

“I love seeing you in power. It is most intoxicating.” Petyr allowed his smile to widen.

“Hush.” Sansa winked quickly over at him.

Petyr stopped suddenly and turned to Sansa. “You are sure you want to do this?” Petyr asked his bride once again.

“Yes. I wish I had done it before all of this happened.” Sansa admitted with a sigh from her lips.

“Before?” Petyr asked curiously.

“When you helped me escape from Kings Landing. Before you gave me to the Boltons.” The mention of what happened to Sansa made the smile quickly disappear from Petyr's lips. “I know you didn't mean for everything to happen as it had but.. I still wish I had just suggested a marriage to keep myself from being used as a pawn again.” Sansa sighed.

Wrapping his arms around Sansa's waist protectively, Petyr pulled her in close, stroking her sides lovingly. “My intention was to never use you as a pawn. I have loved you since the day we met at the joust tournament. You promised to keep a secret and I knew I loved you.” Petyr placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sansa's forehead and held her close.

Pressing her forehead against Petyr's chin and hugging her body to him, Sansa smiled again. “I thought you were just some filthy old man.” Sansa chuckled.

“Oh but I am, your grace.” Petyr joked while pulling back from Sansa. “Now let's get you back to your chamber. You must rest. You have already had enough excitement for one day. It is almost time for supper. I will have Tirius or Hilda bring it to us in the solar.”

“I love you.” Sansa said quietly through the air.

“I love you, too.” Petyr smiled at the sweet sound that filled his ears. The words that he had wanted, longed to hear since he fell in love with the young woman. It made his heart swell with happiness.

* * *

In the darkness of the night, Petyr's body rolled behind Sansa. He draped his long slender arm around her full pregnant frame and stroked her belly when his hand came down around her. She settled back into him immediately, her hair tucked under her between her neck and her pillow in a long braid. Her body barely covered by the shift that allowed her belly to poke out between the fabric. Petyr's warm hand found the skin of her stomach and stroked even in his deep slumber.

A soft snore came from his lips while Sansa lay there with nothing to light the room. Too warm for a fire but too cold for thin blanket, she pulled the thick fur blanket up around her shoulder and looked out of her window toward the sky as she lay there feeling restless. The events of the previous day had weighed heavily on her mind and she couldn't seem to sleep. Petyr of course found sleep to come easy to him no matter what sort of day he had.

In just a few hours she would wake to ready for a wedding, her own wedding. The third wedding of her life, however, this one was one of her choosing. Not someone else. It was a wedding _she_ wanted and not a wedding that was being forced upon her. The idea of becoming Sansa Baelish made the young Queen grin as she lay there watching the clouds pass over the full moon in the dark night sky.

The smell of rain was thick through the room with the shutters to her room open as they were every night. She waited for the sound of rain to come but it had yet to come. However as the night grew colder, she knew it would only be a short amount of time now before it would start to rain and the sounds would finally lull her off to sleep as it did when she was a child.

Finally, the sounds of the rain hitting against the stone of her window made Sansa breathe in deep as the wet smell filled her senses. It caused a shiver to spread throughout her body momentarily which allowed her to settle into Petyr's arms again and now she finally closed her eyes with her hand pressed against her belly.

As she was drifting off to sleep, Sansa's eyes flew opened at a sudden noise that came from the room of her solar. Eyes widen, she waited and listened to see if she heard it again, to see if anything else came from the noise. Her eyes searched around the dark room to try and find a reason to have heard the noise when she heard another sound coming from the solar yet again.

“Petyr.” Sansa whispered, tapping his arm with her hand. “Petyr wake up.” The urgency in her voice was there despite trying to whisper.

“Yes, sweetling?” Petyr sleepily asked as he began to stir.

“Someone is in the solar.” Sansa whispered.

“It's probably just Tirius or Hilda, darling. You need your rest.” Petyr insisted in his sleepy state. He was adjusting himself behind the Queen as if trying to position himself to fall back asleep.

“Petyr I'm serious. Something is wrong.” Sansa sighed, her hand instinctively pressing against her stomach protectively.

“Okay.... Okay.” Petyr sighed as he rolled over onto his back. He sat on the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes while slipping his feet into the black slippers that he left to the side of the bed. He took his time before standing up and pulling a long black robe around his body and shuffling toward the door.

Sansa sat up a little, as best as she could just as Petyr was opening the door. Suddenly a loud crashing could be heard. Sansa turned her head to see men tossing things around her solar and one man who noticed Petyr, charged at him.

“LOOK OUT!” Sansa cried out.

Petyr quickly slammed the door shut but the man had managed to at least get his arm through. With his back against the door, trying to force it shut to keep the man out, his eyes went directly to Sansa.

“You need to get up and you need to go!” Petyr demanded with fear in his voice.

“I-I don't have any way out, Petyr.” Sansa stammered while trying to get herself up out of bed on her own. She struggled in her pregnant state. “The only way out is through the solar.”

“You mean they didn't give you an hidden passages?” Petyr asked, shocked at what his bride was telling him. “Okay..” Petyr still struggled as the man pushed against the door and waved the sword around inside of the room.

Meanwhile, Sansa finally had made it to her feet and pulled her robe around her to cover herself. Her bare feet against the cool wooden floor, forgetting about her slippers in the moment.

“I need you to come get the sword away from his hand!” Petyr shouted as his adrenaline kicked in.

“How?” Sansa gasped.

“I don't know! We have to get it away so we can have a weapon. If the only way out is through this door then we will have to fight our way out. Or I will.” Petyr offered.

“You? What about me?” Sansa asked in shock.

“I can open the door, charge out and you close the door and lock it behind me.” Petyr suggested.

“But you will never get through them!” Sansa said, shaking her head no.

“It's worth a shot, Sansa. If I die, I die. As long as you and the baby are safe.” Petyr said in earnest.

Suddenly it became harder to hold the door and Petyr wondered if it were two men who were now pushing against the door. He grunted and gritted his teeth together, mustering all of the strength he had to try and keep the intruders from getting in.

Without another thought, Sansa made her way over to Petyr and being careful of the man's hand sticking through the door, waving the sword about, she grabbed his hand and bent down to bite hard on his wrist. She could hear him cry out and try to pull his arm back but she used the weight of her body to press against the door to catch his fingers in the door which made him drop the weapon. She quickly put all of her weight against the door and Petyr bent to pick the sword up.

Suddenly the man had pulled his hand through completely, allowing the force of their bodies to shut the door. Sansa quickly pressed the latch over to lock it and pushed herself off of the door.

“You need to stay here. I will send the guard.” Petyr insisted while helping Sansa to stand properly.

“But how did they get in here past the guard, Petyr? What if-” Sansa was quickly cut off.

“I'm not sure but you need to stay put.” Petyr pushed.

“But what if they get through? What if someone finds me? I can't fight. Not like this.” Sansa said worriedly, gesturing to her round belly.

“No one will find you. I promise.” Petyr leaned in and laid a kiss against her forehead and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. When he pulled away, he looked down at her. “Lock the door as soon as I leave. Don't let anyone in except me.

Sansa nodded her head in earnest and followed Petyr over to the door. She pulled the latch back and Petyr flung the door open just enough for his body to fit through and ran out with a shout at the men. Sansa did as she was told and pushed the door shut and latched the lock over the door.

A pain in her side made her cry out suddenly. “No no no.” Sansa whimpered while gripping the side of her body that the pain emanated from. It wrapped around her body as if the pain began to hug her midsection. Agony quickly took over her body and she gripped the bed post to keep herself from sinking to her knees. She had never felt anything so physically debilitating.

Through gritted teeth, Sansa began to stand straight as the pain slowly subsided. Her eyes wandered to the door, listening at the shouting and the sounds of swords hitting one another. She worried for Petyr and for herself. What if he didn't make it? What if these men killed him? What if she had to give birth right here by herself? She didn't know anything about birthing babies.

Suddenly there was a silence that came from the other room. Sansa stared at the door as if a hole would suddenly appear that she could see through. She waited to hear anything at all.

“Sansa! Open up!” Petyr said through the door, breaking the silence.

Instantly, Sansa was at the door, throwing the latch open and pulling the door open. Petyr stood there, breathing hard, battered from the fight and breathing hard.

“You need to go. There are more of them. We must get you to safety.” Petyr said while pulling her arm toward the solar.

Quickly, without hesitation, Sansa followed Petyr as quickly as she could. As she entered into her solar, she noticed through the large windows of the room that a part of the castle was on fire. Her eyes grew wide and fear welled up further inside of her chest, making it even harder to breathe than it had already done.

Hurrying through the hallways, Sansa collided with Arya.

“You're alright!” Arya gasped when her eyes fell on Petyr and her sister.

“For now. We must get her some place safe.” Petyr insisted, letting go of Sansa and pushing her into Arya's arms. “You need to get her out of here.”

“What about you?” Arya asked.

“I will get to the bottom of who is behind this first. We can not have her here in her condition. It's not safe for her or the baby.” Petyr stated in a breath.

“Where would we go?” Sansa asked the two of them.

“I could take you to the sept. No one would expect to find you there.” Arya suggested.

“That's not taking her far, Arya.” Petyr warned.

“It's the best we can do for now.. for her.. like this.” Arya growled toward Petyr.

A pain ripped through Sansa's stomach once again which caught both Arya and Petyr's attention. Bending forward, Sansa gritted her teeth and hugged her stomach. Whimpers of pain came from between her teeth with her tongue straining in her mouth.

“The baby.” Both Arya and Petyr said in unison of one another.

“Take her to the sept. Get her there quickly. She will not get far like this.” Petyr sighed.

The sound of metal clacking and men shouting caught his attention as he looked down the hall.

“Can you walk, Sansa?” Arya asked as the moaning stopped and Sansa panted hard. Without saying a word, Sansa simply nodded her head. “Okay, lets go.”

Arya wrapped Sansa's arm around her shoulders to help her walk off into one direction while Petyr went in the opposite direction. Sansa glanced behind them at Petyr who was stalking off toward the darkened corridor. Sansa managed to mutter, “No... Wait...” but he was gone and she couldn't see him as he rounded the corner. Sansa continued to drag her into the opposite direction which didn't help either.

Bracing Sansa with one arm, Arya held her trusted sword in her other hand. Thankfully they were able to duck and dodge through fighting before they found their way into the yard just past the great keep. Their eyes fell on the sept that was built for their mother by their father and relief flooded Sansa and Arya as they neared the little sept.

The loud grunt of a man behind them made Sansa and Arya try to hurry toward the sept further when Sansa was suddenly yanked from Arya's grasp. She cried out at the feeling of her arm being pulled so hard, almost dislocating her arm from her shoulder. The man growled and shoved Sansa to the ground before turning his attention to Arya.

“Darin?” Arya gasped when the familiar face came into view. None other than the captain of the ship she had arrived to Westeros on. Standing between she and Sansa, sword drawn and a look of pure anger written across his face. “Why?”

“You are a naive, Stark. I pegged you to be smarter than the others.” Darin said with a devious laugh.

“Why have you brought an attack on my family?” Arya held her sword, ready to swing if she needed as the two stood, their feet planted in place.

“You honestly believe the Chancellor would accept a Westerian, a Stark nonetheless, into our home just like that?” Darin asked with a wicked laugh.

The sound of Sansa crying out on the ground behind Darin made Arya shift her glance to her sister. The blue robe around her and the shift had parted as Sansa struggled to sit up where she was. Arya could see the blood running down her sister's legs now. Quickly she shifted her eyes back to Darin.

“What do you mean?” Arya questioned angrily. “Why would it matter who I was? Eldergarde is a peaceful place.”

Another dark chuckle came from Darin's lips, “That is what they want outsiders to believe.” Darin paused to turn and look at the struggling Stark behind him. “Your poor sister. She'll die like this you know.” Darin turned his body and advanced toward Sansa.

Arya shouted in anger and charged at the man. He was twice the size of her but she felt no fear, only anger as the tunnel vision set in. All she saw was him. Her only need was to protect her sister and the baby. Swinging her sword at him, Arya sliced down his back but he put his arm out which she ran into, allowing him to deliver a punch to her stomach. Darin grunted in pain from her delivered strike on his back but still didn't seem phased by the mark.

“No... please...” Sansa cried while trying to pull herself back from Darin who was still advancing toward her. She used her elbows and her heels to try and carry her body but she was too weak.

“Leave her be!” Arya shouted. “You have no business with my sister!” Arya was suddenly at his side, her sword now pressed against his neck, edging to cut into his throat. “Why are you attacking Winterfell?” Arya demanded an answer.

Darin shifted his eyes to his left where Arya stood and smiled before grabbing her hand out of nowhere and gripping it. Arya gasped in pain and her fingers opened to drop the sword beside her sister. Darin laughed as he continued to crush her hand, breaking the bones which causes her to cry out in a shriek of pain.

He began moving in her direction, causing her to almost loose her footing as Darin walked her backwards but somehow she held her balance, even through the pain. “Don't you see?” Darin asked. “Vollorlan is behind this!” Darin laughed. “Who wouldn't want to claim a land for his own. Winterfell is his home after all.”

Arya used her strength to deliver a kick to Darin between his legs and the man shouted in agony, letting go of Arya's now broken hand. She cradled her hand against her and delivered another kick to his chest which brought Darin down to the ground.

“Vollorlan is a decedent of Larazos. Not a Stark.” Arya growled at him as she walked over and picked her sword up from beside of Sansa who lay there still, crying from the pain and the fear that wreaked havoc on her delicate body.

“Vollorlan was a Stark.” Darin revealed as Arya found her way back to him and placed the tip of her sword at his throat, this time, pushing into it eagerly to warn him that she would indeed to it.

“What are you talking about?” Arya pushed, delivering a few kicks to the man's side.

He groaned in pain, spitting blood out of his mouth before turning his head to look up at Arya. “Larazos Vollorlan's mother was a Stark. Larazos didn't set out to find new land. He left Winterfell because his mother and he were banned from ever returning. They turned their back on her because she was meant to be a queen and ended up bearing a bastard child.”

“Why would Zakar care? He has no business with his ancestor's problems.” Arya shouted down at Darin.

“Because Zakar wants his rights to the throne. He is the oldest living Stark if the stories are true and that means he has claim to the throne, not your sister.” Darin suddenly grabbed the sword with his hand, allowing the blade to cut into him, howling from the pain but trying to pull it from Arya's hands.

Arya struggled to keep the blade in her grip with only one hand when it flew from her grasp and Darin tossed it to the side. Arya backed away until she was only about a foot from Sansa, protecting her sister as she had promised to do. Darin slowly got to his feet and wiped the blood in his hands against the material of his pants.

“Zakar would never have the throne. It belongs to Sansa.” Arya sneered.

“Precisely why Zakar wouldn't allow you to come back alone.” Darin smiled wickedly.

Suddenly something could be heard in the sky above them. Something floated in the sky. Arya had seen something like it at Eldergarde. It was a large material that was powered by flamed and heat. Some sort of contraption they had built at Eldergarde that allowed it to fly in the air. Her eyes suddenly landed on the face of a very familiar man. Zakar Vollorlan.

“Arya!” Sansa cried out as hands were grabbing at her arms. She struggled against the grasps but continuously failed.

Arya turned to advance toward them when she was grabbed from behind as well before a punch delivered to her face knocked her out cold and everything went black.


	16. Losing My Religion

 

* * *

 Chapter Sixteen – Losing My Religion

* * *

Cries rung out through the room. The pain in Sansa's body was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Not even the continuous rape and abuse delivered at Ramsay's hands was even half as bad as the pain she was experiencing in that moment. The fear and the pain were almost unbearable. She prayed silently to the gods to bring her ease, to take her pain away, to fix this.

Even though she welcomed the feeling of her bed, she longed for Petyr and Arya. She longed for Hilda. For Tirius. Anyone but these strangers that surrounded her, surrounded her body and her bed. Women dressed in strange garb surrounded her bed as they tended to Sansa who was deep into labor now.

“Where is my sister?” Sansa asked the man who stood at the foot of the bed. His blonde hair draped over his face, casting shadows on his pale and very chiseled jaw bones. “Please, at least bring Petyr to me. Please.” Sansa begged through her pain. “I don't know who you are or what you want but I am the Queen of the North. I am Sansa Stark. Surely there is something I might grant.” Sansa said, trying to reason with this stranger.

A thin smile formed on his mouth. “You are desperate. It is unbecoming of you, your grace.” Clearly, he didn't find it fitting for the Queen to stoop to a level such as trying to grant something to a bully. “The fact that you believe that there is anything you will be granting after today is quite sad.” He said while placing his arms behind his back and puffing his chest out a little.

“Please...” Sansa sobbed as fresh tears littered her face. Her fear for her unborn child was radiating through her body to the point that she could feel the vibrations in her finger tips.

“I hear your customs are to have a Septon present during a marriage ceremony?” The man asked as he looked over Sansa's body going through the labor pains added to the fright she exuded. “Well I'm not sure your Septon is still alive but in my culture we need no such person.”

The man reached his hand out from behind his back and stroked his fingertips over the wood that made up the foot board of the large bed. “Normally we would simply exchange rings and have a mating ritual but seeing that you are in labor, that won't be necessary.”

Sansa's eyes widened as the realization of what this man's intentions were set in. She hugged her belly and shook her head. “Just leave me be, please.” Sansa begged through the tears.

“I will ignore that my bride is begging. A Queen must never beg. Only demand.” The man wanted to continue but Sansa cut him off.

“Then leave!” Sansa screamed. “Leave me be and bring Petyr and Arya to me! Now!” She shouted, anger rushing through her voice even as pain crippled her body to the bed.

A woman reached out and pressed a cool cloth to her hand but before she could successfully wipe away the sweat beads that mixed with the tears on her cheeks, Sansa's hand flew up to the woman's wrist and she gripped it hard, twisting it roughly. The woman hollered in pain.

“Enough!” The man shouted loudly, causing Sansa to jump and let go of the woman. “Much better.” He said with a smile.

“I tried to beg.” Sansa said between panting through her pain as a contraction ripped through her midsection. “I tried to reason.” She continued. “Don't make me use force.” Sansa threatened.

“Force? Oh my dear Queen, you are in no position to force anything upon me.” He said with a content sigh.

The door to her chamber opened and in stepped Lord Vence Vitale, one of Sansa's council members. Her eyes widened and she felt a moment of relief until he handed the strange man a scroll and whispered something into his ear. It didn't take but a moment before Sansa realized that Lord Vitale was not a prisoner of this man.

“Lord Vitale, you will call the guard and have this man removed immediately.” Sansa demanded, but what she was actually doing was checking to see if her suspicion was true.

Vence laughed aloud and shook his head, “This is why women should never hold any power. They believe in a falsehood.” The elderly man shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Zakar is far more fit to sit on the throne than that of Petyr Baelish.” He said in disgust.

“You will be sorry.” Sansa sneered at him.

“Oh no, my dear. It is you who will be.” Vence's eyes grew grim before he turned and left the room.

“You are very feisty. I do enjoy a woman who can hold her own.” Zakar chuckled softly.

“You will _never_ enjoy me.” Sansa spat viciously.

“Just relax, my dear. You take all the time you must to deliver our child. Once you are well enough, we shall have a large ceremony and the throne of the north shall be mine.” Before another word was said, Zakar turned on his heel and left from the room.

Sansa looked around the room at the people. “OUT! GET OUT!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. She lunged forward with every ounce of strength she could muster to throw herself at one of the women and landed a punch on her cheek. The woman's head turned momentarily as Sansa now knelt on the bed. The woman slowly turned her head back and whacked Sansa across her cheek. The blow caused the woman to cry out and bring her hand up to her cheek. Wetness covered her fingertips as she realized the woman broke skin.

Just then another shooting pain in her back causes Sansa to brace herself on her knees and cry out. The pain was getting worse and everything was getting closer together. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer until the baby would come whether she wanted it to or not.

* * *

“We have to get to her.” Petyr said as he paced in the cell he had been thrown in.

“Don't you think I know that?” Arya asked rhetorically while sitting on the floor of the cell.

Both were quite the pair. Both bloodied. Both beaten. Both looking dirty and ragged. Petyr had been overpowered when he saw Sansa and Arya and Darin in the yard by the sept. He went to go make his way out there when a barge of men swarmed him and beat him down until he was unconscious and he woke inside of the cell alongside of Arya.

“There must be a way out.” Petyr insisted. “Or a way to send for help.” Petyr was growing restless and as the day wore on, he wondered if Sansa and the baby were okay, wondered where they were. It wasn't just that Sansa was pregnant and possibly in labor but the fact that she was the Queen. He could only imagine what they were doing to the woman.

“Yeah, through the door, Baelish.” Arya sighed and stood up.

“I can't believe how defeated you already are.” Petyr jibed.

“Well I'm sorry if I feel as though I've failed my sister and the people of Winterfell by leading these people here. Oh and lets not forget that it's my fault for putting my sister's unborn child in danger too.” Arya sneered.

Taking a deep breath, Petyr sighed heavily and looked over at Arya. “Look this isn't your fault.”

“Oh really? How isn't it my fault?” Arya asked, while wrapping the dirty white bandage around her broken hand painfully.

“They saw an opportunity, Arya and they took it. Whether it were you or someone else, they took the chance. You didn't mean any harm.” Petyr said while pressing his back against the bars of the cell.

She didn't look up at him but she still spoke, “And I lead them right to Winterfell.” The moment she spoke the words, she finally looked up at Petyr. Realization set in and Arya sighed. “This was what Bran saw. He didn't see them attacking Kings Landing. He saw them attacking Winterfell.”

“What?” Petyr asked in confusion.

“Bran sent for Sansa to come to Kings Landing because he said he saw these people attacking Kings Landing.” Arya closed her eyes when she realized just how much this was her fault. “When you left, Sansa didn't want to be in Kings Landing anymore and so she told Bran she was coming home.” She opened her eyes and looked over at Petyr. “He begged her not to go. Offered to send men with her. She refused. He wasn't telling Sansa to come to Kings Landing to help him but to keep us away from the north.”

Listening to her words, Petyr understood what Arya was saying and rubbed his hand down his face, stopping at his mouth and taking a big breath. “We have to get to Bran somehow.”

“We have to get to Sansa first.” Arya insisted.

“But we have to get to Bran. He's got the biggest army in Westeros. If this Zakar guy and his people are going to be defeated, then we need an army big enough to defeat them. The North's army is big but we have no idea how much power Zakar is going to have over them if he uses his force.” Petyr informed the younger Stark sister.

“You have a point.” Arya sighed. “We still need to get to Sansa. We need to make sure she and the baby are okay.”

“Then how do suppose we do that? We're stuck down here in the holding cells with no way out.” Petyr growled.

“Wait...” Arya walked over to the door of the cell and began fidgeting with the hinges of the door.

“What are you doing?” Petyr asked with his hands across his chest.

“Father had a release put on these doors in case of this sort of situation where someone had overthrown him at Winterfell. I guess I hadn't thought of it because it has been so long and it never happened.” Arya grunted as she tried to pull a pin from the door hinge.

“Here, let me help.” Petyr said as he walked over. “You're not going to be able to do anything with two hands.”

Arya rolled her eyes and pointed to the pin on the bottom hinge. “If you pull that pin off, it will allow us to crack the door open enough we should be able to squeeze through an opening.”

Petyr glanced at the pin and shook his head. “It looks bonded to the door.”

“It's old though. We may even be able to pull the hinges from the door completely.” Arya bent down and pulled the leg of her trousers up to reveal a hidden dagger strapped to her leg. She pulled it off and handed it to Petyr. “Try with this.”

Petyr took the dagger and began jamming it into the door hinge. It took a few tries before the pin popped and allowed for him to grasp onto it. He handed the dagger back to Arya before turning and pulling the pin loose from the door which causes the door to pop open to the side. The space was small, too small for him.

“Come on.” Arya insisted as she began to push herself through the door.

“I won't fit.” Petyr insisted.

“Then I'll come back for you.” Arya commented.

“No, leave and get help. I'll try and find a way to Sansa.” Petyr said.

“No. I need to get to Sansa.” Arya said as she began to slip through the opening.

“So, Arya. Go and get help!” Petyr growled.

Before he could say any more, she had slipped through the sleek opening between the door and the wall. Petyr let out a shout of air in frustration and kicked the door when the top hinge of the door moaned. He looked up at the hinge and wondered suddenly.

Lifting his arms in the air, Petyr began to mess with the hinge at the top of the door where he found a second pin. If he could pop it, it would take the door off completely. Dropping his arms back at his sides, he looked around to see if he could find anything to help since he had given the dagger back to Arya. He needed to get out so he could find help.

Something told him that Sansa would be okay. Zakar needed her alive if he were going to take the throne. No one was going to believe that he was a Stark, no one was going to believe that he held any stake over the throne or that he was even related. The lines that blurred his heritage would only hinder him in the eyes of the people and no one would accept him as their King. They would however, accept Sansa as their Queen as they already have.

* * *

“Good, Sansa. Your hips are readying for your baby.” The midwife said to Sansa as she lay back in the bed, groaning, her face covered in sweat and agony written across her face. The midwife removed her fingers from inside of Sansa and wiped the blood from her hand before putting the fur back up around Sansa's legs.

“Don't you think of touching my baby.” Sansa said through gritted teeth while trying to breathe through the labor pain. “I _will_ kill you.”

The midwife simply shook her head and stood up. She grabbed the basin of water that another woman had handed to her. They had moved one of the tables in the room to the end of the bed to allow the midwife to put the basin at the end of the table. Sansa had heard them talking about cleaning the baby after it came out of her.

Squeezing her legs shut painfully, Sansa closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She was trying to hold back, hoping and praying that her child wouldn't come yet. She didn't want to give birth like this. She was supposed to give birth with Hilda helping her, her sister to her side and a handful of other handmaids running about the room. Not these strangers.

“Oh deary, doing that won't help a thing.” The older woman said with a laugh while wiping her hands on the cloth that hung from her shoulder. “That baby will come when it's good and ready.”

Sansa glared at her from the bed and looked around. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard as she rolled onto her side. Something glimmered in her view and she saw it. Her dagger that Rayner had given her. He had suggested that she attach it to her nightstand in case anything were to happen and she needed it. Hope welled in Sansa's chest suddenly.

Three of the midwives left out of the room which only left two of them in the room with her. How was she going to get the dagger without making it obvious? Thoughts paced through Sansa's mind as she ignored the rigorous pain in her body and began to push herself up.

“I need to urinate.” Sansa said to the two midwives. A plan.

The two came around to the side of the bed and immediately began to help Sansa from the bed. Her chamber pot sat just off to the side and Sansa braced the wall with her hands and without looking up, she spoke.

“Let me go and face the other way.” She demanded.

Surprisingly, the women turned away and waited. Sansa quickly and painfully, leaned to the side and placed her hand under the table and pulled the dagger out of the sheath and tucked it under the sleeve of her dress. Sansa simply stood there momentarily as if pretending that she couldn't empty her bladder and shook her head.

“Nevermind.” Sansa said to the other woman.

When the two women turned to help Sansa back into bed, Sansa spun on her heel and let the dagger drop into her hand before quickly lifting it and slicing one of the women's throats and the other she quickly disemboweled.

Gasping at her own ability, she let out a sob of pain and shock. She actually did it. She killed not just one but two people. She had never killed anyone before. She didn't count allowing the hounds to eat Ramsay. This was the first someone had died by her own hands.

Without enough time to think, Sansa hurried over to the door and cracked it open. No one was in her solar. That was all she needed. She had a secret passage from there.

Walking over to the fireplace, Sansa quickly pulled the torch on the wall which caused the fireplace to pop open. She pulled it open the rest of the way and slipped into the passageway. Cobwebs filled her vision immediately as she pulled the doorway shut securely. She waved her arms in the air to clear the cobwebs from her vision.

Needing to brace the wall for a moment as a pain filled her, Sansa whimpered, biting down on her lip so that she wouldn't make any noise. The Queen whimpered and pressed her palm to her mouth to muffle herself further. Her child wanted to come. It wouldn't be long now. But she needed to keep going. She couldn't stop now.

Clutching the dagger in her one hand, Sansa used her freehand to feel her way through the passageway. The memory of which way she needed to go was blurry but came quickly as she moved slowly. Her first instinct was to go to the slave quarters where she might be able to find Hilda or Tirius but she knew they would have been cleared out. Her next thought was to go down to the Godswood so she could maybe hide there but she had a feeling that would be covered with men just waiting to kill anyone who passed through.

Sansa came to a door and instead of opening it, she pressed back against the wall, deep in thought. The Hunter's Gate. If she could make it there, she could slip unnoticed into the Wolfswood and at least hide away from the others there. She knew those woods as she used to play in them as a child with her siblings and their friends. They rarely used the entrance anymore and wondered if it would be as heavily guarded.

Making her way into the pathway that would take her there, she could hear shouting near by and looked behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed. She felt relief when she realized it was the guards outside of the walls. But it mean that they may have been noted of her disappearance.

Pushing through her pain, Sansa made her way through the walls until she got to the door that opened up to the outside of the gate. The door was rusty and she had to use what little strength she had left to push it open. Once it swung open, Sansa cried out when she fell to the ground with a thud.

Quickly and painfully, she pulled herself to her feet and ran toward the trees. Tears flung from her eyes and she could feel the blood slipping from her body and down the skin of her legs, making it harder to run. The moment she hit the first tree, she hid her body behind it and peered around the side to see if anyone had seen her or followed but they hadn't. However, the door was still open and she knew it wouldn't be long before they figured out where she had escaped from.

Pain coursed through her body and Sansa knew she had to make it far enough until she could deem it safe. She knew there were wildlings that ran rampant through the woods but she would rather take on the wildlings at this point rather than take on the man that was trying to force her into a marriage.

* * *

Sansa's body was beginning to slow as the sun made it's decent into the sky and the moon began it's rise. The chill of spring made Sansa pull her robe around her body tighter. She was will-equipped to be out there in the woods like this. She had been walking for she didn't know how long and her feet ached. She regretted not wearing slippers that day because her swollen feet were now even more swollen and cut up from her vigorous walk.

Finally unable to go any further, Sansa collapsed against a large tree and let out a shriek. “No!” She cried out. She felt the shifting of her hips almost immediately as her baby began to slip down the birth canal. “Not yet... please...” Sansa sobbed through the pain.

Through gritted teeth, Sansa knew she couldn't hold back any longer. She knew she had to do what she must for the safety of her child. Sansa pulled her robe and shift apart and she could see the red that had coated her legs and stained her feet with blood and dirt. She couldn't see between her thighs but reaching around her belly, she could feel the wetness of blood.

With her other hand, Sansa reached down to undo her robe from her body. She used both hands now to painfully pull her arms from the sleeves and put her dagger down beside her. Once the robe was in a bundle in her arms, a shiver ran through her as the cold air hit her skin.

Crying out once again as another pain filled her body, Sansa tried to bite her tongue, her lip, anything to muffle her cry. Tears poured from her cheeks and her body convulsed with pain. Once the pain passed, Sansa laid the robe between her thighs and gripped her shift in her hands and began to bare down, gritting her teeth and beginning to push as her body was begging her to do.

One push... Two pushes.... A third push... Nothing was happening. Sansa cried as she let her rest back against the tree and panted so she could catch her breath. A noise got the woman's attention and Sansa reached down to grab her dagger to wield it in her hand. “Who's there?” Sansa cried out.

She was so weak but that didn't matter. She was going to fight until her last breath.

A pair of eyes peered out from behind a tree near by and then a face slowly appeared. Blonde hair came into view of the the Queen's vision and she gasped. “Rayner.”

The familiar large man stepped out from behind the tree, a shock filling him at the sight in front of him. Sansa, his Queen, his love, laying against the floor of the forest, resting against a large tree, covered in blood and dirt, attempting to give birth alone. Confusion then suddenly hit him. What was she doing out there?

“Sansa?” Rayner advanced toward her and knelt beside her. “What is going on? What are you doing here?”

“Please... You need to help me. You need to hide me.” Sansa said, grabbing his arms quickly.

Without another word, he scooped the woman into his arms without question and began trudging in the direction of Winterfell.

“NO!” Sansa cried. “Away from Winterfell. Please, Rayner. I'll tell you later but now..” Sansa then cried out when another pain crippled her from speaking.

“Okay...” Rayner turned and began a hurried pace back toward the settlement of wildlings that he had settled into. “Move!” His voice growled when a bunch of people surrounded him.

The wildlings moved and let him through the entrance to their camp before taking Sansa into a hut where a woman stood off to the side, washing her hands in a basin. “Rayner?” The woman asked curiously.

“It's the Queen. She needs tending.” Rayner said in a hurried voice.

The woman nodded and pointed to a table, “Lay her down. Close the curtain.”

Rayner walked over to the table and gently laid the Queen down on the table. He allowed his thumb to stroke over her cheek where she had a wound that looked as though it were fresh. Anger boiled inside of him from the look of it momentarily before he walked over and pulled the piece that held the flap to the hut open and allowed it to fall shut.

Cries from Sansa's body made Rayner turn around and look at Sansa who was arching her back in pain. The woman had taken a seat at the end of the table and opened Sansa's legs and pushed her shift to the sides.

“The baby, it's coming.” The woman insisted. She looked back at Rayner, “I need a blanket. I need fresh water.”

Rayner nodded his hand and walked around the hut and gathered a blanket to which he presented to the woman before going outside of the hut. He reemerged moments later with a bucket full of fresh water. He walked it over to the woman and sat the bucket down beside her.

“Good. Now go and sit behind her. Taker her hands. Help her breathe.” The woman demanded.

Without a word, he was making his way over to Sansa and sat her up so he could fit his body behind her. His feet planted on either side of the table on the floor, Rayner took Sansa's hands in his and planted a kiss on the crown of her head.

“Your grace, please, you must push.” The woman insisted.

“I tried. It doesn't work.” Sansa sobbed.

“Please, try again. Use Rayner as strength.” She encouraged the red head.

Sansa nodded her head and took a deep breath before she pushed her chin to her chest this time and gave a giant and long push.

“Brilliant. I see the head.” The woman informed her and began doing something between Sansa's legs that she couldn't see. “One more big one, Sansa. One more.”

Letting out a growl, Sansa dug her heels into the table and bore down on her hips, gritting her teeth together and gave one last big push until she felt the small exit of her baby that caused her to shriek from the pain before falling back against Rayner, panting hard.

Little cries filled the room. The lungs on the infant were strong as it echoed in the tent. The woman began to wipe the child, clearing the nose and mouth to allow for louder cries to follow. She cradled the infant in her arms and smiled before standing and bringing the baby over to Sansa who weakly lay against Rayner.

Little tufts of blonde littered the infant's head and Sansa knew that could only mean one thing. It was the give away of who the father of her child would surely be. It didn't resemble Tyrion or Petyr but that of the man that sat behind her. A pang of pain in her chest. It wasn't Petyr's child. Still, the idea that he was here, he was finally here. _He_.

“You have a beautiful son, your grace.”

Glancing up at Rayner, Sansa could see the tears glittering in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. Sansa didn't need to tell him. He already knew by the looks of it.

The woman placed the crying infant into Sansa's arms where he settled almost immediately. Sansa allowed fresh tears to fall and the woman turned to go back to Sansa's waist. A pain filled her and she shifted against Rayner.

“I must get the after birth, your grace.” The woman insisted.

Sansa simply nodded in return. It wasn't as much pain but it wasn't pleasant either.

“What were you doing out there?” Rayner asked suddenly through the silence as he watched his son nurse on his mother's teat.

Biting her lip, Sansa tried to keep her bottom lip from quivering. “The men that Arya came from Eldergarde with have overthrown Winterfell. They attacked me, not Bran. They took Petyr and Arya. I don't know where anyone is or if they are dead or alive.” Sansa cried softly. Sniffling, Sansa flicked tears from her face.

“Then what Bran saw didn't happen at Kings Landing, Sansa. It was Winterfell.” Rayner said, coming to the same realization that Arya had, unbeknownst to them.

“What?” Sansa asked in confusion.

“Remember Bran said that he saw a vision of his men being attacked? It wasn't his men. It was yours. It was the Queen's guard. He called you to Kings Landing thinking that you would be safer there.” Rayner offered an explanation to what had happened.

“Oh gods.” Sansa whimpered and closed her eyes, resting the back of her head against him.

“Shh. You're safe here, for now.”

“Where am I?”

“A wildlings camp.” The woman's voice answered for them. Opening her eyes, Sansa looked out at the woman. She had beautiful long raven colored hair. “I'm Diana.” She said with a friendly smile.

“But I thought-” Sansa began but was cut off.

“We are free folk but not as wild as we once were. Thanks to the battle at Winterfell that killed the whitewalkers, we have since become more civilized. You are safe here, your grace. We have knelt to you in silence for some time now. We just choose to live out here on our own rather than be forced in the life that Winter Town offers.

Nodding her head in understanding, Sansa sighed. “Thank you, Diana. Thank you for helping me. For saving my baby.”

“That is the future of the North.” Diana said with a smile as she began cleaning up the mess that had been made. “You are safe here, your grace. We will hide you if we must. I would suggest that we put you on a parade out of here immediately and send you to the wall.” Diana suggested.

“Why?” Rayner asked in confusion.

“Because Jon will know what to do.” Sansa answered for Diana.

“But what about Winterfell?” Rayner asked.

“Sansa is in no shape to fight. There is not of us to take the castle back. We send her to the Night's Watch and we give her over to Jon. Allow them to maybe send for help in the south.” Diana said to Rayner.

“But will the baby survive the cold?” Sansa asked worriedly.

“If we wrap him tight, keep him close to you and keep him warm then yes. We will dress you as one of us. We will wrap your son. I will personally escort you to the wall.” Diana suggested as she stood and wrapped the contents of the blood and afterbirth in Sansa' discarded robe and walked it over to a bucket and dropped it in there.

“As will I.” Rayner insisted. “We will take a few men and we will go immediately.”

“But I'm in no shape to move.” Sansa whimpered.

“We have a carriage. You and your baby will be safe there. I will stay in it with you. Henner will lead the horse, Rayner, Tagus and Lief will follow and be our guard. We will get you and your baby to the wall safely, your grace. You have my word.” Diana insisted with a smile.


	17. Without Fear

 

* * *

 Chapter Seventeen – Without Fear

* * *

As the carriage rocked, Sansa softly shushed her crying son. Adjusting the top of her dress, she pressed the baby firmly against her breast to allow him to latch onto her. It only took a few seconds before he realized that his mother was offering herself to him so that he may feast on her milk. Once he had latched, his cries subsided and Sansa stroked his little round cheek with her finger gently.

“Have you thought of a name?” The voice on the other side asked her curiously.

Sansa lifted her head to look over at Diana who was knitting something in her lap.

“A name? Oh... I...” Sansa shrugged her shoulders a little. She thought back to her conversation with Arya about a name. “A little.”

Diana glanced up from her knitting, her fingers still going however. “Give him a strong name. With a cry like his, he will be strong like his father.” Diana grinned.

Against his wishes, Sansa explained to Diana in detail what had happened and that Rayner was the father of her son. Rayner didn't want anyone to know for fear that if she chose not to be with him still, even after all of these months, he'd spare her any shame as she would for him. Sansa didn't see it like that however. She saw it as an honor that he was the father. Whether or not they were together. He was still the father of her child.

Diana promised secrecy and after she had helped Sansa and had been so diligent with her and her son, she felt that she could trust her. Diana had been transparent with her and Sansa saw no threat in the kind woman. Of course she still didn't trust her completely but she trusted her _enough_.

“He is already quite strong.” Sansa winced and adjusted him in her lap. The tightness of his gums on her nipple was quite painful.

“Let me help. You need to learn to adjust him.” Diana said while putting her knitting down to the side of her and crawled over to Sansa's side where she looked down at the babe attached to Sansa's breast. His fast contorted in anger and let out a little wail.

When Sansa's nipple came into view, Diana could see how red and irritated it looked. Gently, Diana reached between Sansa's breasts and smiled. “If he latches on improperly, it will cause pain and he will not get as much nourishment.” Diana explained. Even though the baby cried, Diana pinched the area around the dark circle of Sansa's breast and brought the baby's head to his mother's breast. Instead of him just latching onto the nipple, his mouth formed around the dark circle itself.

The change in pressure was an immediate difference and Sansa smiled up at Diana. “Thank you.” Even in her voice could Diana tell there was instant relief.

“Don't let him bite down on the nipple. Encourage him to suck the whole area around it. It will give you more comfort and he will indeed be more satisfied.” Diana smiled and returned to her seat.

“How did you learn all of this?” Sansa asked curiously. “I thought wildlings-”

“Where stupid?” Diana asked, cutting the Queen off.

“No. Not stupid... just... didn't understand these things.” Sansa corrected her.

“How else do you think we've managed to thrive all of these years?” Diana asked with a laugh.

Sansa blushed with embarrassment and nodded her head. “You said your tribe was more civilized?” Sansa asked curiously.

“Mhm. My mother was a woman of Winter Town who met my father, a wildling and fell in love. Wildlings are not all savages. My father longed to be apart of civilization.” Diana began as she picked her knitting back up and started to continue her product. “My mother was welcomed into their tribe and began teaching them things like medicine and building that she had learned from civilization. She died in the battle at Winterfell.” Diana sighed.

Her smile fading, Sansa looked down at her son feeding deeply still, “I'm sorry, Diana.”

“Don't be. She helped to rid the world of the whitewalkers once and for all.” Diana said proudly. “My father would have been proud.”

“What happened to your father?” Sansa asked curiously.

“A whitewalker killed him.” Diana answered quickly. “That's why he would have been so proud.”

Giving the woman a little smile and noding her head, “Well if it is any consolation, they raise a fine daughter.” Sansa said with a smile.

“Thank you.” Diana said with a smile back to the Queen before suddenly the carriage came to a stop.

The two women looked around curiously before locking eyes.

“Stay here. We must be at the wall.” Diana said before climbing out of the back of the carriage and disappearing.

Sansa held her son to her chest securely and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. She watched him as his suckling lessened a little with each passing minute as he began to drift off to sleep. The moment the pressure of his mouth lessened completely, Sansa pulled him away slowly to adjust her dress before bringing him back against her, allowing his cheek to rest against the top of her breast where their skin connected.

The flaps to the back to the back of the carriage opened and a familiar face peered in at Sansa and her son. “Jon.” Sansa said with a smile.

* * *

Drowning in the thick liquid, Petyr knocked back another drink of the ale and slammed the wooden mug down on the wooden table top. He was trying to drown his sorrows and drown the pain that filled him. It was physical pain but it made him physically sick at the thoughts that soared through his mind.

“Drinking isn't going to bring her back.” Arya growled at the man across from her who was clearly drunk.

Petyr eyed Arya and rolled his eyes, “Don't tell me what to do.” He barked at her.

“Well if we want to make it to Kings Landing you will keep it together.” Arya sneered. She was getting sick of Petyr's wallowing.

“I don't know how you can be so calm. She's your sister.” Petyr said with his head in his hands, elbows resting on the top of the table.

“Because there's no real proof.” Arya sighed and sat her own ale down on the table.

“There was blood everywhere and no trace of Sansa or the baby, Arya. What more proof do you want?” Petyr sniffled as his own fresh tears leaked onto his cheeks.

“That's precisely it, Petyr. There was no trace of them. No bodies. You underestimate my sister. If she could escape Joffrey and the Lannisters than she can surely escape from anyone.”

“You seem to forget that it was I that helped her to escape.” Petyr reminded Arya while wiping his nose and eyes with the back of his sleeves.

“Still, this is Sansa we are talking about. She may not know how to wield a sword but she knows how to move. Hopefully she escaped to Kings Landing before they got to her.” Arya sighed.

“What are we going to do once we get to Bran?” Petyr asked, tapping his fingers against the table surface.

Arya shrugged. “Tell Bran. Tell him we need him. We need to see if Sansa and the baby are still alive. We need to get Zakar and his people out of Winterfell before they destroy the whole place.”

“I'm sure he's already sent for more men. Is there any information about Eldergarde that you can tell me that could help us?” Petyr curiously questioned Arya.

Thinking back to what she knew about Eldergarde, Arya shrugged her shoulders and took another drink of her ale. “Eldergarde is a peaceful place. I don't understand.”

“Come on, Arya. _Think_. What did Darin tell you again?”

Sighing, Arya shook her head as if to say there was nothing of use. “He said Zakar was a descendant of the Starks but all of the books I've read on Larazos pointed to the possibility of him being the decedent of the House of Manderly. When I read the location of Larazos's beginnings, it says he came from the Eastern shores of Westeros but didn't name a location. However it had a picture of the family crest and it looked similar to the Manderly crest.” Arya admitted.

“Manderly? You mean like Wyman Manderly?” Petyr asked.

“Yeah. Something about his brother.” Arya nodded her head. “Wait a second...” Arya trailed off as her face turned to pure curiosity and had become deep in thought.

“What?” Petyr questioned.

“If Vollorlan and Manderly are connected, why would he want to take over Winterfell? Wouldn't it be White Harbor he wanted to take over?” Arya asked, seeing that nothing seemed to make since at the moment.

“Not exactly. Why go for White Harbor when you can take over the entire north?” Petyr offered as an answer.

Shaking her head, “It would be too much for Zakar to take on alone. But besides that, if Vollorlan was a Manderly, why did Darin say that Zakar was a Stark? Why is none of this making sense?” Arya growled, slamming her good fist on the table in frustration.

“It's okay. We will figure this out.” Petyr assured and took another long drink of his ale.

“Wait a second...” Arya said as realization set in. “Darin said Larazos and his mother were banned from Winterfell because she was a Stark who had a baby out of wedlock.” The wheels in Arya's brain began turning as pieces started to fall into place. “His mother took the name Manderly but gave her son the name of Vollorlan.”

“Why would she do that?” Petyr was growing confused.

“Because else she would have had to given him the name of Stark. She didn't want anyone to know that her son was the Stark bastard.” Arya looked up at Petyr. “When Larazos came to Eldergarde he said in his journals that he wanted a world free of Kings and Queens.”

“Okay, and what affect would that have on Zakar?”

“Who else would know the secrets of a family but the family itself? Zakar was tired of sharing his wealth with his siblings. Fairspire was a small fishing city on the coast of Eldergarde. It doesn't have anything to do with taking over White Harbor or Winterfell. Zakar wants to take over Westeros.”

Petyr's face contorted in confusion, “Where might you get that from?”

“If Zakar takes control of Westeros, he would have the power to overthrow his brother and his sisters and he in turn can take over Eldergarde too.”

Petyr took a deep breath, “Well I think we need to get to Bran fast.”

* * *

“He's very handsome.” Jon smiled down at the baby in Sansa's arms.

“Thank you.” Sansa smiled and adjusted her son in her arms. “We need your help.”

“Anything and you'll have it.” Jon assured Sansa. This made her smile a little again.

“It's a long story.” Sansa sighed.

“Arya brought a hoard of men from a distant place over to Westeros where they've overthrown Sansa from the throne and are probably on their way to do the same to Bran.” Rayner said quickly.

“Well.. maybe not so long.” Sansa said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Wait, you've been overthrown?” Jon asked. That was when he noticed the healing mark on her cheek. “You've been in a fight.” He stated while lifting his hand to stroke the mark on her cheek gently. “And you won.” Jon said almost in disbelief.

“I had help.” Sansa glanced at Rayner before turning her eyes back to Jon. “We need to get to Bran before Zakar and his men get to Kings Landing.”

“You worry but Bran has the largest army in all of Westeros, Sansa. He would be more than able to defend himself.” Jon reassured his worried cousin.

Shaking her head, “These men are not the same. They have weapons. Jon they can fly.” Sansa sighed as the look on her face grew dire. “They have advanced weapons and big strong men, thousands of them.”

“Where's Arya?” Jon asked.

Sansa's face fell a little, “I don't know. I nearly escaped Zakar's midwives and went through the hidden passages to get out into the Wolfswood where Rayner and Diana found me.” Sansa explained. “Last I saw a big man knocked her unconscious and was taking her inside. I got dragged back to my room by a bunch of men who wouldn't let me leave. That afternoon, Zakar came and told me he was going to marry me so he could stake the throne for himself but I had a dagger hidden under a table in my room and I was able to kill two of the midwives when I found my way out. I didn't have time to go get Arya or Petyr because I was trying not to give birth.”

“Wait, Petyr?” Jon's faced screwed with confusion.

“Yes, he's alive. It's also a long story.” Sansa said quickly.

“Arya and him worked together to trick you guys into believe that he was the reason for your family's deaths but it wasn't him so he hired a faceless man to pose as him and he hid away in the Vale.” Rayner said.

Glaring over at Rayner, the blonde man shrugged as if that were an apology. Sansa turned her head back to face Jon. “There's more to it than that but this is the safest place for me... for us.” Sansa sighed.

“Of course. There is no place safer, Sansa. You will always be protected among us.” Jon assured with a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Sansa smiled, tears brimming her eyes.

“No need for it. We are still family.” Jon smiled over at her.

“So what is the plan?” Diana asked. “I don't mean to intrude but if they find out that Sansa has come to the north, they will follow from the sounds of it.”

“Diana is right.” Rayner nodded. “We need to come up with a plan.”

“Then we head out immediately. We will make the voyage the Bay of Seals. From there we will take a ship to Kings Landing. I will send a Raven to Bran immediately.” Jon informed them as though he had already had his plan in mind. Looking over at Sansa, he rubbed her arm softly, “It will all be okay. We will fix this.”


	18. Devoted

 

* * *

 Chapter Eighteen – Devoted

* * *

A soft knock came from the door to her cabin at the same time that her son began to cry from the middle of her bed. Sansa walked over to the bed and picked him up into her arms quickly and rocking him softly. “Just a minute.” Sansa called out.

Scurrying over to the door, Sansa unlocked the latch on the door and pulled it open just a little. Rayner's body appeared in the doorway. “May I come in?” He asked quietly.

Thinking for a moment, Sansa took a deep breath and nodded. She stepped back and allowed him to come forward. Rayner stepped through the threshold of the doorway and shut it softly behind him. He watched as Sansa turned and walked over to the bed where she sat on the side of the bed. She quickly adjusted the top of her dress to reveal her breast to her son and allowed him to latch on quickly.

“He's very loud.” Rayner said with a smirk.

Sansa looked over at the tall blonde man and smiled. “He is needy.” She sighed.

“How so?” Rayner asked while taking short strides to make it over to the bed where he sat at the edge.

“He longs to be near me. I can't put him down often.” Sansa admitted. “He hungers often. Cries often. Sometimes he is inconsolable.”

“Perhaps it is normal.” Rayner offered an answer to her problem.

Shrugging, “Perhaps. I don't remember my little brothers crying so much honestly.” Sansa added.

“Maybe it is how our son was brought into the world.” Rayner suggested.

“In chaos? Perhaps.” Sansa hated the idea that the difficulties she had during labor had caused her son such distress that now he didn't seem to want to be away from her for too long. “I can not even sleep alone in the bed. If I try to put him in his own he cries.”

For the first time since looking at Sansa, she looked exhausted. He had never seen his Queen so tired and so distraught. He knew that he had a little bit of something to do with that along with everything going on. He also detected a hint of shame on her complexion. Shame of not being able to fend for herself or her child in the face of danger. She had been overthrown but he knew if anyone else had been in her place, they too would have overthrown.

“Are you resting?” Rayner asked.

“A little. Diana says it will take some time before I am back to myself.” Sansa admitted to him. “With everything going on I've never even thought of a name for him.”

Looking over at Rayner, Sansa felt a little bit of comfort in his presence. It was like the old days when he would come into her room and talk to her for hours on end about issues she were facing as well as things going on around Winterfell and the surrounding towns of the North. He also sought out her council often for his own decisions. But it was mainly that feeling of being safe that she had really missed.

“Dante.” Rayner said with a grin suddenly. “That's a name I've always wanted to name a son. It was my grandfather Dante Blackthorn's name.” Rayner said before clearing his throat. “Well, I would think he would be Dante Stark right?”

Nodding her head, Sansa looked down at him. “I think the name will give him the respect that he deserves as he grows older.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder at Rayner. “Is that okay?”

Rayner smiled and nodded, “Of course it is. _My_ son is a _Stark_. That's the best gift I could ever ask for in life.”

“I just want to say that I'm sorry for everything and I have really missed your presence in Winterfell.” Sansa declared, her voice soft and her tone lucid.

“It's okay, Sansa. I actually enjoy what I have going with the free people though.” Rayner admitted to her. “Diana and I have a pretty wonderful thing.” Rayner smiled.

“Oh...” Sansa said, when she realized what he meant by a 'wonderful thing'. “She is beautiful, Rayner.” Sansa offered him a smile, hiding the twinge of jealousy that she felt in her chest.

“Thank you. She makes me very happy.” Rayner stood from where he sat and walked around the bed to kneel in front of Sansa and his son. He reached out to stroke the back of his son's head. “I wish I could watch him grow.” Rayner sighed.

“Well when we take Winterfell back, you and Diana are more than welcome-” Sansa began but was cut off by Rayner.

“I appreciate the offer. But I don't think that will be the best idea for any of us.” Rayner insisted. “All that I ask is that you allow him to be what he chooses. Teach him to be smart. Get him a good trainer so he will be strong.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the back of the baby's head.

“Do you want him to know?” Sansa asked, her eyes straining as tears begun to surface in the corners of her eyes.

Shaking his head, “No. Don't tell him.” Rayner's eyes looked up at Sansa's eyes and he smiled a little. “You said you were to marry Petyr?” Sansa simply nodded. “Give him Petyr's name.” Rayner asserted.

Taken aback by his comment, Sansa raised a brow, “Why?”

“Because Petyr will be his father. He will raise him. He will teach him. Allow him the peace of sharing his father's name.” Rayner answered while placing a hand on the back of his head and stroking his back.

This brought tears closer to falling from Sansa's eyes. “Petyr said that no matter if the child came from his blood, he would raise him and love him as his own.” Sansa informed Rayner. “He promised to protect him and treat him just as he would treat one of his blood.”

Nodding his head, Rayner smiled. His own tears glistened in his blue eyes. “Thank you. Make sure you tell him that. That is all that I want.”

Standing up, Rayner pushed all of the tears back down so that he wouldn't cry. He moved forward and placed a soft kiss on the top of his Queen's head lovingly. Sansa closed her eyes and took a shaky breath in. When Rayner pulled back, the two smiled at one another.

“If you need anything, I'm just across the hall.” Rayner smiled.

“Thank you.” Sansa said with a nod to her head.

Rayner turned and exited out of the room and Sansa finally allowed herself to cry a little. Tears glossed over her eyes and littered her cheeks momentarily. She felt guilt. Shame. Sadness. Fear. All of these things welled inside of her chest and the pit that lay within her stomach that seemed ever empty. She longed to feel the warmth of Petyr's arms in that moment where things would feel better. Where she wouldn't feel so alone or so weak.

* * *

“So I was right to try and keep Sansa here in Kings Landing.” Bran sighed.

“Bran, we need to do something. Zakar wants to take over Westeros so he has the army power to take over Eldergarde.” Arya admitted.

“Well then we must call upon our army.” Bran insisted from the throne.

“How do we know this isn't a trick?” Tyrion asked while eyeing Baelish.

“Why would we travel for weeks to come here without Sansa who could possibly be in the hands of Zakar and his men?” Petyr growled at the imp beside Bran.

“Bran can't you do the seeing thing? Close your eyes. See what really happened since it has come to pass.” Arya suggested. “It's the only way you will know we are telling the truth.” She insisted.

Bran nodded his head and almost instantly, his eyes turned white. He could suddenly see the same vision that he had seen before. He could see the men fighting. He could see Zakar with Sansa in the midst of birth. He could see the men dragging Arya and Petyr into the holding cells in the basement of the castle. He could see Zakar sitting on Sansa's throne with the crown on her head. He also saw the shambles that Winterfell had come to. Without anyone where to fight back, Zakar's men had begun to wreak havoc on the north.

The white disappearing from his eyes, Bran was suddenly very alert to the people in the room and he nodded his head. “They tell the truth. Sansa is not with Zakar however. He sits on the throne with Sansa's crown on his head.”

A growl of disapproval came from Petyr's throat, his hands turning into fists. “We can't just sit here and wait for him to attack us. We need to take every man we can find and go take back the north immediately.” Petyr persisted.

“And we will.” Bran assured him. “But we must know what we are dealing with.” Bran turned his attention to Arya. “Tell me everything you know.”

“Can't you see it yourself?” Arya asked curiously.

“Let me hear it from you. It is quite exhausting to see the past especially one that I'm not fully aware of.” Bran admitted to his sister.

Arya began to go into the details with Bran. She explained to him of the Vollorlan being descendants of the Starks and the Manderlys. She informed him of Zakar's plans o take over Winterfell so he could in turn take over all of Westeros and then take over Eldergarde. The ideas of overthrowing his siblings and possibly taking control over the known lands to the East as well. She even went into details of information that she knew of Eldergarde that might be of some use to Bran.

After hearing everything they had to say, Bran sent Tyrion to send for all of the armies of Westeros. He also sent for mercenaries to seek out Winterfell in hopes of maybe penetrating through Zakar's hold on the North and possibly taking him out first on their own. The idea was that the army would be the backup if the mercenaries couldn't take out Zakar themselves.

The next task was to locate Sansa and the possibly born child. Petyr knew she had to have given birth already seeing that it had been one month since he had last seen her. All they could do is wait. Bran had already used up most of his magical abilities to their limits to see into the past and trying to figure out things and needed to rest. In turn, Petyr and Arya were given their own quarters and were sent to also rest. Their journey on horseback had been long and grueling and both longed for bathing and sleep.

Petyr couldn't sleep however. Even as night fell over Kings Landing, his mind continued to go to Sansa and the baby. Was she alive? Was her child alive? Were they safe? Were they being held captive? All sorts of thoughts filled him. Of course the worst thought would be that Sansa and the baby had been slaughtered with the rest of the people but then again, if Arya was right, Zakar needed Sansa alive.

Still, the idea of Zakar putting his hands all over Sansa or their child drove Petyr insane with anger. It fueled him to drink massive quantities. It drove him to sleep less. It caused him pain almost constantly. This was far worse than anything he had ever felt before and he longed to see her face, smell her scent, hold her close to him.

Often thinking about the last night they had spent together gave Petyr some sort of comfort. They had spent the evening together, entangled together. Even with the pregnancy, their appetites for one another were insatiable and Petyr enjoyed said appetite greatly. Then he had fallen asleep with her resting on her side, cheek pressed against his chest and her belly pressing into his side. He could still hear the sound of her breathing, feel the warmth of her body against his, the familiar scent of warmth and their bodies. Of course the thoughts brought comfort but also created a longing that only drove him deeper into insanity.

With bloodshot eyes, Petyr stood on the balcony of his solar, looking out over the sea with a drink in hand. He looked out at the night sky and he wasn't sure how late it was. All he knew was the darkness surrounded him and the moon lit the sky like a giant round torch. He looked out at the sea, wondering where his beloved was, wondering where their child was. For the first time in his life, Petyr prayed. He prayed to the gods to bring them back. To deliver Sansa and the baby to him safely.

* * *

“Wake up!” A voice shouted while abruptly and violently shaking Petyr from his drunken sleep.

To drink was the only way the man even found at least an hour of sleep. Which had seemed to be the same issues as the previous night.

Reaching up to rub his eyes and push the sleep crust from his eyes, Petyr's vision was blurry but he could make out dark hair and a round face. Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes further before allowing himself to blink a few times. Finally his vision cleared and Arya came into view.

“What is it?” Petyr asked sleepily.

“There's a ship approaching Kings Landing with black sails.” Arya informed him.

“Who is it?” Petyr asked once more.

“We are not sure. But I think it might be Jon.” Arya said quickly. She turned and grabbed Petyr's clothes and tossed them on the bed beside him. “So get up, get dressed and meet us down at the dock.”

Arya was gone in a flash, leaving Petyr to nurse the headache that boomed in his head all on his own.

Staggering as he stood up, Petyr braced the wall with his hand and held back the vomit that wanted to force it's way out of his stomach. He swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths until the moment passed. His bloodshot eyes burned from his tears the night before which left his face swollen. Petyr pulled his clothes on his body and shuffled slowly over to the basin that had been set out for him.

Leaning forward, Petyr scooped the water up into his hands and splashed it over his face a few times. He allowed the liquid to hydrate his skin and bring some a slight soothing feeling to the burning in his eyes. He reached out blindly and found the towel beside the basin and wiped the water quickly when he caught the look of himself in the mirror.

A beard was beginning to grow on his jaw bone and his hair was disheveled and beginning to curl. Redness still rimmed his eyes and caused the whites of his eyes to look tired and distressed. His face wrinkled in places he hadn't realized they had wrinkled in months. Taking a deep breath, Petyr stood up, ignoring the look of himself and turned to walk out of the room.

Once he had joined the others down at the docks, the large ship had finally dropped an anchor out in the bay. They could see people making their way down onto a smaller boat in the distance but they still couldn't make out who they people may have been. So they waited. Patiently and yet impatiently.

Bran simply watched while Tyrion flipped a rock in his hand, Arya paced and Petyr leaned against the rock face by the dock and watched the fish swimming near the dock. His mind wandered to the times when he and Sansa used to meet here back when she was a young girl in Joffrey's clutches and promised to take her away and back to Winterfell. It seemed so long ago and he actually kind of missed those days. What he just missed was her.

“Jon!” Arya called out when she realized that Jon was the one standing at the edge of the boat as the two men in all black rowed the boat on either side of him. She still couldn't make out who the others were in the boat behind him but she was excited nonetheless.

It wasn't until the boat finally made it to the dock that Petyr and Arya helped Jon onto the boat but it was Petyr who noticed her first.

“Sansa.” Petyr gasped.

The red head was already up and climbing over the side of the boat with Jon's help and climbing onto the dock. Immediately, she went to him. Her arms thrown around his shoulders and his arms wrapped around her once again, thin frame and held her tight against him.

“My love.” Sansa cried happily into his neck.

“It's alright. You're safe now.” Petyr cooed into her ear. The familiar smell of her hair filled him as he buried his head into her hair and held her tightly against him. His prayers had been answered.

When they finally pulled away, Sansa turned and hugged Arya tight. “God I thought I had lost you... again.” Sansa whispered into Arya's head.

“Me too.” Arya said softly back to her, but feeling relief that her sister was still alive. “Where's the baby?” She asked when they pulled away.

Jon was had already pulled Diana onto the dock and Rayner had passed the baby over to her when Jon began helping him onto the dock as well.

Suddenly, the issues of the north were behind them when all eyes fell on the one-month-old-infant in Diana's arms. Everyone wanted to see who the baby was. Was it a boy? Was it a girl? Did it have hair of gold? Red? Raven? Everyone held their breath it seemed as Sansa reached out to take her son from Diana's arms and turned to show them the baby's face.

“Dante is growing. He is strong. He is well.” Sansa smiled down at her son who cooed in her arms and shoved his fists into his mouth. Her eyes connected with Petyr and when she expected to see sadness, she was shocked to see a smile on his lips.

“Who's the father?” Arya asked suddenly.

Sansa bit her lip and wondered if she should lie. “Rayner, I believe. He resembles him.” Sansa admitted, deciding against lying and telling everyone the truth. “However, he will be given the Baelish name and he raised as Dante Baelish of Winterfell. He will not know the truth. Rayner wishes to give our son the best chance and if we must lie then so be it.” Sansa informed the others while adjusting the cooing child in her arms.

Petyr looked over at Rayner and their eyes connected. “I don't know what to say.” Petyr shook his head, at a loss for words.

“Love him. Teach him well. Show him the way to be a great king.” Rayner reached over and took Petyr's hand in his. “Treat him as if he were _your_ blood.”

Nodding his head, Petyr pulled Rayner in and the two locked their arms around one another with their hands connected between them. A manly hug but one that showed Rayner Petyr's gratitude for the gift.

“Thank you.” Petyr said quietly.

Rayner pulled away and nodded his head before letting go and walking over to Diana. “This is Diana. She is my future bride.” Rayner smiled.

“Wonderful to meet you, my lady.” Arya said with a smile.

“You are a medicine woman?” Petyr asked with a smile.

“Yes... I am...” Diana said, almost confused on how he knew that. Rayner grinned and wrapped an arm around Diana's waist.

“I'll explain later, my love.” Rayner whispered in her ear before placing a kiss against her cheek softly.

“We have much to discuss.” Tyrion suddenly said aloud. “Let us get you all settled from your long journey.” The dwarf suggested as he turned on his heel.

Everyone followed Tyrion back up the docks and to the castle where safety awaited them.

Once in Petyr's room, Sansa sat just by the opening to the balcony on a long cushioned seat that allowed for Petyr to sit beside her once he had shut the door safely behind them. His eyes took in the sight of Sansa. Her hair had grown. Her belly was no longer large and pregnant. Her breasts were still full and added a bit of curvy to her body. Her hips seemed winder and it almost looked as though she had aged slightly. He also noted the exhaustion on her face.

Slowly, Sansa pulled her breast free and allowed for her fussy infant to feast on her milk. She allowed for Dante to wrap his little hand around her finger as he drank deeply and looked up at his mother. Petyr couldn't help but smile at the sight.

“You are an exquisite looking mother, sweetling.” Petyr grinned as he wrapped his arm around her waist and looked down over her shoulder to watch Dante suckle at the teat that had been presented to him for nourishment. He looked up at Sansa to see her eyes drooping slightly. “You must be exhausted.” Petyr commented.

Sansa turned her head to look at him, “I'm relieved.”

“Relieved?” Petyr asked. She nodded her head. “Why?”

“I thought you and Arya were.... dead.” Tears glistened in her eyes, glossing over her blue eyes. She shook her head and bit the inside of her mouth. “I could handle not having the throne. What I couldn't handle was losing you and my sister.” Sansa admitted as her bottom lip quivered.

Sighing, Petyr pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss against her forehead. “Shh. It is not so. We escaped from the holding cells and when we went to find you, you were gone. _We_ thought we had lost _you_. So you see it is _Arya_ and _I_ who are relieved to see that _you_ and _Dante_ are safe.” Petyr said before pulling back so he could look into Sansa's eyes of sapphires.

Seeing the little droplets of tears on her cheeks made him sigh. He brought his fingers up to wipe away the tears and it caused Sansa to smile momentarily. “What matters is we are here together with our son.”

“Would you like to hold him?” Sansa asked with a sniffle as her son stopped suckling and just simply nuzzled his mother's breast. Petyr nodded his head in response and put his hands out for her to place Dante into his arms.

Happily, Petyr allowed for the weight of the infant to fall into his grasp and with a hand to support his head and the other to hold his body, Petyr looked down on the blonde haired boy who's eyes were a deep blue that matched the dark colors of the sea water. The baby cooed and waved around his arms and his legs as Petyr held him.

“He is a precious little thing.” Petyr grinned as tears twinkled in his gaze. He finally was taking a good look at the small boy that he would call his son. Even if he wasn't his blood. Even if it were another man who had helped to create him, that same man had allowed the boy to be granted with the Baelish name. That was enough for Petyr.

“Are you sure you wish to raise him?” Sansa asked once she had tucked her breast back into her dress and adjusted herself properly.

Perking his head up, Petyr looked over at Sansa. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life other than wanting to marry you.” Petyr said with a smile on his lips.

Leaning forward, Sansa pressed her lips to Petyr's and wrapped an arm around to allow her hand to cup the back of his neck. She deepened the kiss once their eyes slipped shut and Petyr added some pressure with his own lips.

Slowly, they pulled back from one another and looked down at Dante, both smiling. Petyr adjusted so that he was cradling the baby in his arm and allowed for his other arm to wrap around Sansa's waist. “My family.” Petyr grinned and looked back up at Sansa who happily smiled down at Petyr and Dante who was beginning to drift off into his father's arms.

“He knows.” Sansa said, motioning to Dante with a nod of her head.

Looking down momentarily, “Do you think?”

Sansa nodded, “Of course. He wouldn't sleep so quick if he didn't feel safe, Petyr. If there is anything my mother taught me of being a mother was that a baby feels everything. Pay attention to how they react and it will tell you everything.” Sansa smiled and stroked over her son's cheek.

“Good. I will protect him fiercely.” Petyr said with a smile.

As he looked down at the small baby, he knew in that moment that he would never allow any harm to come to Sansa or Dante. He would protect them with his life. He would never take a chance with their lives. The feelings of fatherhood were setting in quickly and the urge to protect them riddled him deep in his chest and hitting into his soul.


End file.
